Navigating Nine
by Delirium's Child
Summary: Sequel to Surviving Stephanie. Realities are colliding, and as To The Nines unfolds, the Web Master may hold the key to more than a simple kill game.
1. Chapter 1

Navigating Nine: Chapter 1

_Disclaimer:_ The plot of To The Nines, and the entire Plum universe is the creation and property of Janet Evanovich. This is just seeing how much stress it can handle, and will cause no permanent harm to anything, except maybe the reader's mind.

_Note:_ This story is all in good fun. In other words, it isn't serious. It's just a writing exercise for me and hopefully somewhat amusing for you. And to help us all wait out the long, cold year between books. Oh, and you need to have read Surviving Stephanie first.

Thank you, to all of you who were kind enough to encourage this, so here it is, the sequel to SS, and you didn't even have to clone Ranger for me. I hope you all enjoy it, and find it suitably warped.

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**…Chapter 1…**

My life was in a really weird position. I knew lots of people periodically got into weird situations in life, but I was pretty sure did not have an advice manual for me. Normally when someone says they feel like they're living someone else's life, they mean it philosophically.

Maybe that's my problem- I never got the hang of philosophy. So when I encountered this problem, mine turned literal. I really _was_ someone else. At least I was pretty sure I was someone else. Okay, so I had the fingerprints and apparently the same genetic make-up of the person I was supposed to be, but I didn't have her memories.

I'm not sure what happened, one minute I was falling down the dorm stairs after a slightly drunken accident and the next I was in a hospital apparently playing the role of my favorite book character. I tried to pretend and play the part, but you know something? It sucks doing that. So I didn't. I did it my own way and things really got weird.

Stephanie's totally traditional family was suddenly rearranged and my own parents showed up. Her dad was now my dad, and her mom was now my stepmother. My mom appeared as, you got it, the mom.

I know, it made no sense, but there you are. I had decided to give up on trying to explain it. Maybe I was having some kind of Matrix experience because my body was in a coma at the foot of the dorm staircase. I could be Stephanie with a freaky sort of amnesia. I could be a figment of Janet Evanovich's twisted imagination. Thinking about it had gotten me nowhere except to bring up new questions.

I'm not a philosophical person, I guess because I just decided to try and adjust to the way things were. Unfortunately at some point I also kind of fell in love with Bruce Wayne aka Ranger Manoso, ultra scary, utterly gorgeous, multimillionaire mercenary. Not such a bad thing since he loved me back, except for he seemed to be in a 'forever' state of mind.

See, no one knew where Ranger lived, except his core team (who more or less lived there) and now me. And this particular Bat Cave was forever. Once you were in, you were _in_. I was in.

Welcome to the world of Moonbeam Stephanie Alyssa Plum. My world, my life, at least that's what I liked to think of it as.

So now I was living in the Bat Cave, possibly forever, with Ranger and a couple of his guys. It had been six weeks since I moved into Wayne Manor. Maybe that wasn't the right way to phrase it, because 'moved in' made it sound like I packed up and actually did a move-in thing, with U-Haul and boxes and such. In reality it was more like I was packed up and some of my stuff magically transported itself.

It was only supposed to be for two weeks, the two weeks my doctor had said I needed to take off and just vegetate to let myself heal emotionally and physically from getting kidnapped and then rescuing myself and my step-sister from this sociopath called Eddie Abruzzi. Except that when the two weeks was over and I brought up me moving back out, I just got a blank look followed by various comments.

"Moonbeam, you know you'd make a great platinum blond…" from Lester.

"There's a new Vin Diesel movie coming out. Why don't we see if anybody gets thrown through a window?" from Tank.

"You seen that new Vin Diesel movie yet?" from Bobby.

"Babe," from Ranger.

So, because I'm female and at least not totally insane, I gave up and decided they'd let me know when they thought I should leave. Probably I might have made a little more fuss except that I was spending my night's curled up in Ranger's bed. And even if I wasn't up to actual sex yet, it was a bed with a warm semi-naked Ranger.

I snapped back to the present, and pretended I wasn't breathing a little heavier than I had been. I needed to focus, for crying out loud, or I was never going to get through this file. My ribs were pretty much healed and Jack Ryan, Rangeman's resident psychologist, had been putting me through weekly sessions of talking. Actually we chatted like friends now, and I was really glad I hadn't dated him. He was much more Valerie's type.

Anyway, he had okayed me to go back to work on the small stuff, but he said I needed to have some help. So here I was with Lula, reading through the file on a new FTA and trying not to think of the utter injustice that I had to end up in a relationship that defied actual categorization with the only 'opportunist' who was apparently totally un-opportunistic.

And to make matters worse, aside from sleeping in the same bed I'd barely seen Ranger for the last couple weeks. I was starting to think I might have to get serious about not going back to the Bat Cave.

At least I wasn't pregnant.

"You sure Ranger didn't give you this car?" Lula asked. I looked at her, dressed in a hot pink spandex skirt, faux tiger print top, with a yellow angora sweater over it to ward off the cool early morning air. Jersey in June. I wasn't expecting to like it.

Lula was a former ho, and life had never been great for her. I honestly wished for a moment that Ranger had given me the car. As it was, I felt myself blush. It was a little embarrassing to admit the car's true source to Lula.

"No. It's not black," I pointed out. "Ranger only has black cars."

"So where'd you get it? That teacher of yours- Mac?"

I frowned. Mac was affiliated with Ranger, somehow. I sort of thought they were partners in RangeMan, but I wasn't sure. And my only dealing with Mac was that he taught me self-defense and how to use a gun and how to drive a clutch when Ranger loaned me a Porsche and refused to let me try my luck at a CR-V or something with an automatic. Of course, Ranger had thought I knew how to drive a clutch, but that was aparently part of the... the whatever was going on that I was not going to think about.

I looked around us at the cute little white Jeep Wrangler. I preferred sports cars, but being a bounty hunter didn't make them practical.

"No, I didn't get it from Mac. I got it from my dad."

Lula stared at me. "Your dad gave you a car?"

I cleared my throat and shifted my weight as I nodded. Dad was a rancher, and he'd had a little luck with other interests after he helped a friend get a restaurant started and it had taken off. So now Frank Plum, three-time National Rodeo Association Bull Riding Champion, was a bona fide business man. He'd happened to meet my stepmother Ellen on a business trip a few years ago and had decided to marry her.

Since she wouldn't leave her precious Chambersburg, he decided to split his time between New Jersey and Oklahoma and guess where that left me, seeing as my mom was off chasing New Age knowledge around the globe? You got it, it left little old me stuck in Chambersburg, a land of Catholicism, cholesterol, and button factories. At least, this was the intel I had gleaned from my mom, dad, step-grandmother and stepsister over the last few weeks. Ellen wasn't speaking to me. I couldn't say I minded.

So here I was, goddess knew why, a 22-year-old bounty hunter, still in Trenton, New Jersey. But like I said, it had some perks. Good friends, hot guys, and an interesting life.

However, the skip we were going to have to go after today was not on my list of perks. Punky Balog was a fat, furry fungus who'd committed grand theft auto and skipped out on his court date. Since I worked for my step-cousin, Vinnie the Duck-humping Weasel, I got the pleasure of apprehending him.

Problem was, for reasons that continue to defy any amount of explanation to myself or others, I knew exactly what was going to happen, provided this was the day I thought it was. We were going to drive to Punky's, get mooned, get flashed, and I was going to get covered in Vaseline while trying to apprehend his fuzzy drunken butt.

So it was written, so it would not be. Hopefully.

I've discovered that sometimes when you know these things you can make them slightly less unpleasant with a little planning. Unfortunately I didn't see how I was going to manage it this time.

"Let's go, Lula," I suggested, and she nodded affirmative, slipping on a pair of Raybans. I slipped the Jeep into gear and headed for Punky's house, hoping I didn't get lost on the way. I had a print out of directions from Yahoo, but sometimes not even those helped.

Luckily for me, Lula had an excellent sense of direction so she kept us on-target until we drove past Punky's house. I was unpleasantly surprised to find that he lived in on a block of row houses. My small town, Midwestern sensibilities had serious issues with row houses. They gave me an urge to run the other direction.

I drove down the block and parked around the corner, trying to gather my thoughts. "All right, Lula, you take the back, I'll take the front."

"Shouldn't we do some surveillance, see if he's there?"

"If he isn't there I'll worry about surveillance." No way was I going to sit around and wait to get mooned by a fat hairy butt. "His house is the fourth one down. Don't miscount." I climbed out of the car and stared down the sidewalk, feeling uneasy. Hopefully Punky wouldn't be home. Hopefully I was totally wrong about what would happen today.

"What you waitin' on, white girl?"

"Nothing. Let's go."

Punky Balog answered the door on my second knock. He was weaving on his feet and as his piggy little eyes looked me over he leered. "What you want, sugar? Need anything from Punky?" God his breath was 90 proof—

Punky swung the door open wider and I reeled backward. He was naked as a fat, furry ugly balding baby.

I was never having children.

"Yeah, Punky," I said, trying to smile while forcing the vomit back down my throat. Focus on the head. Piggy little eyes. _Don't look down. Good god, don't look down…_

"I need you to come with me."

"Anything specific in mind?" he asked, moving so the… package jiggled along with his belly. I was going to hurl.

"Yep." I pulled out my stun gun and lunched straight at him. For such a fat little fungus, he sure moved quick. He dodged the stunner, turned his fuzzy tail, and ran. I yelled at him and chased after.

He was on the bottom step when I got him, right on the nape of the neck. Punky fell like a sack of drunken Irish potatoes. Backward. I staggered as his flabby bulk knocked into me.

"LULA!" I yelled as I overbalanced and stumbled back until I smacked into the wall. I stood there dazed, staring down at the naked fat man. What the hell was with Janet sticking me with ugly naked men? Was it karmic retribution of getting to see Ranger naked?

I was glad I'd only had some granola and yogurt that morning as I used my foot to turn Punky over. I cuffed him a little more tightly that was strictly polite and wondered what to do about his nakedness. Maybe I could just take him to the cop shop and pretend I didn't notice. Like the white elephant in the living room or whatever. I never understood that saying. Did someone actually have an elephant in their living room once? Where did they live? Why didn't they mention it?

My brain was on its pattern of ultra-random. Good. Ultra-random was useful for situations like this. I had found that in this life, thinking straight was vastly over-rated.

Now about the white pinky Punky…

In the end I had to go get a blanket and sit around waiting for him to wake up. He was just showing some signs of life when there was a slamming door nearby and Lula stormed in the front door.

"Geez, I get the wrong house and the lady goes ballistic. Not like I was stealing anything." True, thieves usually didn't wear hot pink spandex miniskirts and Via Spigas. Lula was very big on Via Spigas. Apparently it was a shoe line dedicated to pricey hooker heels. Personally I adored shoes of any brand as long as they looked cute.

"Hmm," I said trying to look sympathetic, but was saved by Punky jolting awake with an indignant scream.

"Get these things off me! What the hell did you do to me!"

"Want me to shoot him?" Lula offered, eying him distastefully.

"I wish, but Vinnie'd have a coronary. Just help me get him down the stairs out front. We can always drop him."

"Girl," Lula said as she helped drag Punky's squirming self toward the door, "you been spending too much time with Batman."

I sighed. "Maybe…"

Lula shot me a look and Punky took her moment of distraction to ram an elbow into her stomach. I saw her gasp and moved before I even thought, sweeping my left leg and catching him around the ankle, then jerking it back as I let go of his sweaty, grimy arms.

Punky yelled as he did a face-plant in the dirt. Damn, I'd been aiming for the cement.

I turned to Lula, who had a hand clutched around her middle and was leaning against the house while she caught her breath.

"You okay?"

"Let me at him!" she growled. "I'm gonna bust a cap in his ugly ass…" I saw the fire lighting in her eyes and recognized the signs of Rhino Rage coming on. I stepped aside and let her storm down the steps.

His mama should have taught him not to hit a lady. Cause it wouldn't have been nearly as painful as the way Lula taught him. At least it was now a pretty safe bet there would never be any little Punky Jrs.

I got some funny looks at the station as I hauled in a docile, slightly limping, very naked skip with a black eye.

"He fell down the stairs," I sighed, hoping to keep the desk sergeant from asking any silly questions.

"Yeah, don't you hate it when that happens?" Carl Constanza said, coming into view behind the sergeant.

I allowed myself a smile. "It's a bitch." I would have said more but my cell phone rang.

"Steph," Connie sounded stressed, "we got a problem. Get here."

I grimaced. This knowing the future stuff was not what it was cracked up to be. And I really needed to stop being called Stephanie.

My cell began to play the theme song to Practical Magic and I sighed as I flipped it on. "Hi, Mom."

"Hello, sweetie. I just wanted to check on you."

I stopped on the front steps of the police station and scowled. Lula was by some miracle still waiting across the street in the parking lot, but that wasn't nearly as odd as my mother wanting to 'check' on me. Rhianna Ravenstar, Mom's preferred name as well as her penname, did not 'check up' on her gifted and capable Old Soul daughter.

"Is this about the Jeep?"

"What Jeep?"

_Oops._ "Never mind. What's wrong?"

"Are you all right?"

_Well, other than I'm probably crazy and my sort-of-roundabout boyfriend-ish person is being totally distant…_ "I'm good. Men are pigs. I''m crazy. It's the norm."

Mom was used to feeling crazy and being called crazy. She was a New Age author. She wore crystals and robes. She danced naked under the full moon. It tended to upset some people.

"I'm glad to hear it," she sounded relieved. "I'd like you to come to dinner tonight if you can."

"You're marrying Derek?" I guessed, smiling and letting myself continue down the steps. Mom laughed.

"Don't be ridiculous. I want to show you the new book!"

"Awesome. I'll be there."

"Not bringing Ranger?" Mom sounded amused now.

"Nope. Should I?"

"I had wondered. Well, don't be too hard on him, sweetheart. And remember to at least let him explain himself."

"Okay. Gotta run, Mama. Love you!"

"Love you, Moonbeam." I wrinkled my nose as I shut the phone.

She must have really taken a liking to Ranger if she thought he deserved the right to explain himself.


	2. Chapter 2

Navigating Nine Chapter 2

_Disclaimer:_ Janet's characters. Mostly her plot right now.

_Note:_ Moonbeam isn't always the most mature about things…

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"So you gonna tell me what's wrong with you and Batman or I gotta bust a cap in your ass too?"

"You didn't bust a cap in his ass. You kicked his ass… actually you kicked a lot of things… I've heard they're doing really good with testicle retrieval now…"

"Screw his testicles. What's with you and Batman?"

I grimaced. "I don't know."

"What you mean you don't know?" she demanded as we pulled out of the lot.

"I said I don't know. I haven't talked to him much. I spent most of the last six weeks sleeping or talking with Jack or letting the guys teach me how to play cards." It had been endless fun for them due to my hopelessness with all things numeric and it was fun for me because they actually had conversations during card games. Glimpses into the male psyche were fun, and just a little disturbing. Glimpses into these particular male psyches were both those things times a thousand. Now if I could just get a damned glimpse into Ranger's psyche…

"You livin' in the Bat Cave and you ain't talked to him?" Lula was staring at me like I'd grown a second head.

"He gets up at five and then he gets home and weird hours. I don't know… then he had a trip to like Miami or somewhere." I kept my eyes on the road and bit my lip.

"No wonder you been out of it. And you haven't even had sex?"

"Nope. Totally sans sex."

"You in the same room as he is, right?"

"Dude, I was all shades of purple and scabby. I wasn't letting him see me naked." Again.

"Good point. There's a lot of pressure bein' naked in front of Batman."

"Yeah." And there was silence for a few beats. "Want to grab some ice cream?"

"Hell yes. Gotta keep our strength up, takin' out hostile fugitives."

I turned off halfway to the office, at a little place I'd found during my first week as Stephanie Plum. They had great ice cream, but their smoothies ruled the universe.

"Girl, you can't be serious," Lula shook her head at me. "What happened to you? Used to be you had good taste in food. Maybe you're right. You spent too long in that Bat Cave."

Considering that Tank had the eating habits of a teenage football player, and Lester thought pizza was a food group, my taste for healthier food wasn't really a Bat Cave thing, but I just shrugged.

"I like smoothies."

"You're weird."

She had no idea.

Lula and I sauntered into Plum Bail Bonds, sipping our respective frozen treats and discussing the merits of Will Smith.

"Where the hell have you been?" Vinnie yelled. He was mad, and his voice had gone up a couple octaves. He sounded like a girl with a sore throat. "We called you fifteen minutes ago!"

"I was dropping off Balog," I shrugged, and sipped my smoothie.

"And you had time to stop for ice cream? This is a god damned emergency—"

"Ranger's not here yet," I pointed out.

Vinnie's eyes narrowed. "He's on his way." And he took a deep breath for more yelling. I hated getting yelled at. If I paid much more attention, Vinnie was going to get his ass kicked and I'd have to ask Dad for a job. I heard the door open and knew Ranger had arrived because Vinnie stopped yelling and the hair on my neck stood up.

"So what's the sitch?" I asked Connie, walking around Vinnie to hand her the chocolate malt I'd gotten for her.

"Thanks. Steph," Connie said and gestured to the fat lady in a sari who was sitting in front of her, staring at me.

"This is Mrs. Apusenja, and this is her daughter Nonnie," Connie said, more calmly.

I eyed Mrs. Apusenja. Saris were not made for fat people. There were rolls in places I didn't want to think about, rolls cascading down from her halter top to her skirt. I tossed the rest of my smoothie into Connie's wastebasket.

The younger woman, Nonnie, was a few years older than me, around 30, but slender and with that exotic beauty and flawless dusky complexion that is apparently the birthright of Indian girls. If they could bottle that complexion, someone would be richer than Bill Gates. If I hadn't seen her mother, I might have hated Nonnie on principle.

"And this is Stephanie Plum, she's one of our bond enforcement agents."

"Nice to meet you, ma'am," I said, extending my hand to Mrs. Apusenja. She looked down at my hand and crossed her arms over her chest. Okay, at least this meant I didn't have to be nice to her. I let my hand fall back to my side and nodded to Nonnie. "And you, miss."

Nonnie smiled and glanced at me but her eyes were glued on Ranger. I walked over and sat down on Lula's desk. Ranger had taken up a spot in a corner and I ignored the fact he was looking at me. I would deal with him when this scene was over.

"Mrs. Apusenja rented a room to Samuel Singh. Vinnie signed a visa bond for him. It made the paper today," Connie explained, handing me a clipping.

I looked down at the picture. It was black and white, and sure enough there was the familial weasel, shaking hands with a small Indian type guy. There were two shifty, used-car-salesman types, and in the background I could see Mrs. Apusenja and Nonnie.

"And Singh skipped out?" I guessed, feeling resigned. I knew this story. I'd already read it. In fact, I had a maddening urge to look for the fast forward button. I didn't want to live through this book. Although, it might mean I got a free trip to Vegas, but honestly, I had better things to do.

"Samuel would not do such a thing! He is an exemplary young man!" Mrs. Apusenja bristled. I raised an eyebrow. Yeah, lady. Whatever you say. And I bet Krispy Kremes are a healthy part of this balanced breakfast…

"Christ," Vinnie said as I handed the clipping back to Connie. "National print coverage on this thing. One week left and he goes missing? Why didn't he just come over to my house and feed me rat poison! It would have been an easier death…"

I resisted the urge to point out that rat poison probably didn't work on weasels. Then I had to resist the urge to wonder why someone else hadn't gone over to Vinnie's house and fed him rat poison.

"We think there might be foul play involved," Nonnie said. I couldn't quash a slight smile. Duh.

"Yeah right," Vinnie sighed. "Give me a refresher course on Samuel Singh…"

As Nonnie, Vinnie, and Mrs. Apusenja went over Samuel Singh's habits and routines I let myself space. I knew where Samuel Singh was. He was dead. Well, maybe not yet, but he would be. I was trying to go over the book in my head. It hadn't been my absolute favorite but I'd liked it well enough. Singh was a computer nerd, who had a crappy job at TriBro Tech, and he got involved in a computer game. The ultimate game, led by a psycho little game master named Clyde Cone. Or Andrew Cone.., the youngest one of the Cone brothers anyway, who owned TriBro. And the nature of the game was to kill the target. You hunted the target down and killed them, or some junk like that.

And of course, because Janet Evanovich was a twisted sadist, I was going to get named the target. Or the prize. Whatever. I was going to get hunted. So what would be my goal now?

Last time I had tried to just ignore the stalker and thereby avoid being kidnapped. I had avoided getting my arm branded, but I'd still been kidnapped. And lucky me, I got to kill the psycho instead of letting Ranger do it for me. Yay for girl power. Now if I could remember where Singh had been hiding, I could just go there, kick the shit out of him for being an idiot computer geek and doing something so stupid like getting in on a kill game, and then I could drag his sorry butt in for Vinnnie and get paid…

I glanced at Ranger. He was the man in black, wearing a Kevlar jacket, probably more weaponry than should logically fit on one body, and his hair was very Renegade- all long sexy and tied back. I refused to think the word 'ponytail' in connection to Ranger. Ponytails were for girls. Ranger was definitely not a girl. Thank Janet, or I'd have had to seriously rethink my sexuality.

Nonnie was talking about her dog, Boo. She even had a picture, which Lula handed me. Boo was a cocker spaniel poodle mix. I couldn't help thinking someone had probably been royally pissed about that one. Maybe not as pissed as say a Doberman poodle mix…

I handed the picture back to Lula. "Cute dog."

It was a cute dog. But again, a major difference between me and the person who was supposed to be sitting here. I felt no major stab of concern for the dog. Maybe because I knew where it was. The dog was fine, in Las Vegas probably, but it was fine. And maybe I felt unconcerned because I didn't like small yappy things.

I liked horses. I liked the coon dog I had when I was younger, even though it had an unfortunate tendency to sleep outside my window and bay at the moon. I wouldn't have minded the sleeping outside my window except that it made it really hard when I tried to sneak home drunk because I couldn't see it. You haven't known shock until you're tanked on Jager and you step on a sleeping hound, which promptly howls like you tried to kill it and leaps up, throwing you into a rose bush from which you have to be extricated by your dad's ranch foreman who's laughing so hard he's doubled over.

"We must leave now," Mrs. Apusenja announced. "Nonnie needs to get back to work."

Vinnie walked them to the door and stood watching them leave with a mournful expression. "There they go. Hell's message bearers." And he proceeded to angst. I let my thoughts drift back to my younger days. Okay, so it was like maybe four years ago, but it felt like a long time.

"You can find him, right?" Vinnie was asking Ranger.

The corners of Ranger's mouth tipped up and he inclined his head a fraction of an inch. "I'm gonna need help," he said. "And we're going to need to work out the fee."

"Whatever. You can have Stephanie."

I rolled my eyes and Ranger glanced at me, his smile widening. "Vinnie, have you ever heard of the women's rights movement? I'm not cattle."

Vinnie turned to glare at me.

"And before you say one word, think real hard about the phrase sexual harassment."

Vinnie's mouth shut with an audible click and he twitched. I loved making Vinnie twitch. It was one of my favorite games. Dance, weasel, dance…

"Thanks, Vinnie." I smiled brightly and put on my most innocent face. "Of course I'll help Ranger find Singh."

Vinnie blinked at me. "You'd better."

Connie handed Ranger a stack of papers, which he read through while Vinnie retreated into his office to sulk. I frowned, feeling deprived. I wasn't through. I hadn't even gotten to mention animal sex or anything. Only one twitch. Rats.

I wished I hadn't thrown my smoothie away. Then again, as my imagination presented me with a picture of Mrs. Apusenja's midriff, maybe I wasn't. I didn't really need to eat anyway.

"Babe?" Ranger asked.

Oh, sure, now you talk to me. "Yeah?"

He motioned toward the door and I sighed before I hopped off the desk and followed him out. "What's the plan, Higgs?"

"I'll take the neighborhood. You should talk to Singh's employers." _Oh hell no._

"Nothing doing. I'll take the neighborhood. You deal with TriBrio."

Ranger's eyebrow lifted. "Problem?"

"Um, yeah. But I don't think you want it discussed in public. And if you're just talking about this case, then not really. Except that I'm not going anywhere near TriBro Tech."

He was frowning now. "Fine. You can come with me to check out the neighborhood."

I climbed into his truck and thought over my next choice of words carefully. "How was Miami?"

"Difficult," he said as the truck angled out of the parking lot.

"Want to talk about it?"

"Tonight. Why don't you want to go to TriBro?"

"TriBro is Creepy Central. And there was a case a few years ago where this chick was killed in a very icky manner and the police think Bart Cone did it but they can't prove anything."

"That makes things interesting."

"Yes, and so, I am not touching TriBro with a ten kilometer pole. You talk to them. They won't kill you. They're psycho, not stupid."

"They?"

_Oops._ "He. It. She. Possibly plural. You never know."

"Babe." He sighed, and I frantically tried to think of some way to change the subject.

"Have you been avoiding me?" _Mouth, you and my Brain need to meet sometime._

Ranger's eyes slid away from the road to look at me. "I've been busy."

"Right. I know I'm not a girlfriend and I'm not going to get all demanding. But seriously if you can't talk to me with me living with you, I can always move out. I do still have an apartment. With stuff in it. And that way at least you'll talk to me. I miss talking to you," I added quietly.

"I've talked to you."

"Yeah. For entire thirty second intervals, even."

He sighed. "Can we talk about this later?"

"No. I'm applying pressure." I straightened my spine and lifted my chin. "We talk about it while I still have the guts to bring it up. Do you think I'm fat?"

"What?" He glanced at me, as if to make sure I wasn't high.

Oh, damn it. Why isn't my mouth attached to a shut-up filter? Well, hell, might as well do it right. "That's it, isn't it?"

"Are you still taking those pills?"

"Shut up about the pills. Fine, you get your wish," I said, pulling out my cell phone. At least I knew how to do this much. I could play hysterical girlfriend like none other. Even better, because I was pretty sure I actually was a quasi-hysterical semi-girlfriend.

"Who are you calling?"

"I'm calling Lula. I need a ride. Where are we?"

"You're not calling Lula."

"Yes I am." I sniffled for good effect. "Now let me the hell out. I'm going back to my apartment. I need Ben and Jerry's."

I caught only a blur of movement and the cell was yanked out of my hand. Ranger had excellent reflexes. Then there was a squealing of tires and we flipped a U-turn. I grabbed the handle over the door and yelped as my butt slit across the leather seats.

"Ranger, what the fuck—?" the question died on my lips as I looked at him. His jaw was set and he looked… grim. It was the look that made small third-world countries quiver with fear.

"Ranger?" I asked a little more quietly as we flew down a street.

No response.

"Higgs?"

Nada.

"Darth?"

Not even a quirk of the lips.

"Ranger, where are we going?" I asked, the first stirrings of fear beginning to skitter its way along my spine. I had just pissed off Rambo…


	3. Chapter 3

Navigating Nine Chapter 03

_Disclaimer:_ No Janets were harmed in the writing of this fic. Ranger belongs to Janet, and so does the Plum Universe. Good luck getting Moonbeam to give it back though.

_Note:_ This chapter is total fluff and bedroome time and did not come out the way I wanted it, despite 2 rewrites. So I'm giving up and letting Moonbeam and Ranger have their bloody way. There's no arguing with both of them… And anyway, I'm blaming Lois, since she posted those inspirational pictures, lol. You can safely skip this chapter, as even this edited version gets a bit racy.

To Heather. Happy Birthday, Babe!

**00000000000000000000000000000000000**

I gave up trying to get a response and sat back in the seat, figuring he'd get around to letting me know what the hell was up when we got wherever we were going. I just hoped it didn't involve a gun, a shovel, and some deserted locale.

Trying to distract myself from my imminent demise, I decided to just watch the world go by. Outside the business district faded into the 'burbs, and the houses gradually got larger.

I didn't even recognize the neighborhood until I saw the misplaced villa that sat more or less next door to Ranger's place. The place. Sort-of our place? Hell, I can't even use my own language anymore… Why were we here, though? He did realize blood was a bitch to get out of carpet right? Of course he did. He had to.

Maybe I wasn't going to get killed after all. That was a cheerful thought.

I risked a glance at him as we pulled into the garage. It was mostly empty since the others were at work, with the exception of the Mercedes. The Porsche was at Al's, getting the transmission worked on.

The truck pulled into its usual space and I sat still for a few moments, debating what I wanted to do. I kind of thought staying in the truck might be a good idea…

My door opened and I was looking into a pair of very dark, very unreadable eyes. Um, maybe not. Just nod your head and don't make any sudden moves. That would be a good strategy.

I trusted Ranger with my life, and I was pretty sure he would never do anything to me, but I had a thing about large angry men. The thing was I had an intense desire to run whenever one entered the scene.

As long as he didn't yell, I told myself. I'd probably get by fine as long as he just didn't yell…

I slid out of the truck and Ranger shut the door. There was a heartbeat of quiet as the echo died away, then I found myself hauled into a bear hug that might have made even Tank proud. Ah, so it was going to be death by strangulation…

"Babe," his voice was low and soft. "Don't ever do that again."

I frowned. "Do what?" His chest was hard, solid muscle like the arms around me and I was losing brainwave activity because of the faint scent of Bulgari, or maybe it was just pheromones and I was blaming the Bulgari.

"Moonbeam," he said, sounding heavily annoyed.

I clamped my jaw shut on my automatic answer. The shut-up filter might not work, but when it came to self-preservation, I wasn't completely stupid. Better explain myself, quick.

"Well, something's obviously been wrong. I figured if it was your thing you'd tell me, but you didn't so it must be me." _Plus, you are a guy. _

"Christ," he swore violently, and the arms around me tightened. _Eep__, come on Ranger, Care Bears need oxygen too…_ "I'm sorry."

Okay, forget the oxygen. I'm already hallucinating. It's too late to save me now.

"Sorry?" I managed. He relaxed his grip. Ah, sweet air…

"Yeah. Lo siento," he whispered, kissing my hair, his hands beginning to move over my back and arms. _Focus brain, focus. Do not become distracted by the… umm, that feels really nice… _

I smiled. I wasn't going to stay mad at him. It was too cute, damn it. He was ruining the whole big lecture I had planned. It was going to be this big Scarlet and Rhett showdown…

"Does this mean I'm not too fat?"

"Babe," he said with an odd half-laugh. "You are perfect. I don't care what you weigh or don't weigh."

"Even if I looked like Mrs. Apusenja?"

His laugh was real now. "I'd have to see you in a sari."

"I used to have one, somewhere. Mom went through a Hindu phase." But whether that was in this universe or Somewhere Else, I didn't want to think.

Ranger released me, but kept his hand at the base of my neck as he steered me out of the garage. The temperature was rising and I was pretty sure it had nothing to do with us for once.

"Speaking of your mother, Moonbeam—" he said when we reached the kitchen. I gritted my teeth.

Despite the fact that the guys had spent most of the last six weeks calling me that, I still wasn't overly fond of it; although it was, in a way, a step up from Stephanie. I'd never thought of myself as a Stephanie. In my version of my life, it wasn't even a part of my name; everyone had called me Alyssa. So I guessed I was going to have to get used to Moonbeam from the guys even if it made me feel that much closer to being a Care Bear. Oh well, my goal in life had never actually been to be taken seriously.

Ranger caught my look and grinned. "Babe, it suits you."

I narrowed my eyes dangerously. "Back to your question. What about my mom?" A hideous thought drifted through my mind. "Oh, Goddess, please don't tell me one of the guys has a crush on her…"

It had happened. I had the dubious fortune of having what my ever-poetic male friends termed a MILF. Actually, come to think of it, mom was probably closer to Ranger's age than I was…

"No," he smiled. "I think she scares them."

Easy to understand. Mom scared a lot of people, most of them male. I blew out a sigh of relief.

"My question," Ranger continued, his gaze serious again, "is how old are you?"

"Don't you know it's rude to ask a lady that? And what does this have to do with Mom? How old are you?" I was going to babble. Yeah, that might work…

"Thirty-two." Mom was forty-one, nine years older than he was. I was ten years younger… "Answer the question."

_Uh-oh_. "I'm younger than you."

"Babe."

"Twenty-two." Actually, by my count I was twenty-one, but mom had said twenty-two and I figured that made a better answer at this point in time, anyway.

It was safe to say Ranger was staring now, complete with a raised eyebrow. "You were nineteen when you started working at Vinnie's."

He closed his eyes and looked like he was asking for patience. "Why aren't you in college?"

_Good question._ "I got bored," I guessed.

"Nineteen…"

Ranger was kind of hung up on that. I knew there was a reason I hated numbers. "So? You checked my records. You knew I didn't take Spanish in school. You had to have seen my birth date."

"I wasn't looking for that information." He looked like he needed to be distracted before he did something stupid. Like give me an age gap speech. Probably the one thing worse than a go-back-to-Morelli speech.

"Tsk, tsk, Batman. Getting sloppy in your old age?" Yikes. What the hell was with me today?

His head shot up and his eyes pinned me. "What was that?"

"You heard me." I swallowed hard as he moved closer. He was a millimeter away from touching me, his eyes staring down into mine. I tried to keep my mouth shut, but it just wouldn't shut up. "It's okay, Higgs. Lots of guys lose their edge when they get older."

"Losing my edge am I?" his voice was silky and dangerous.

"Of course not. Did I say that? Look, just because there's a little more flab in the middle…" Right. Ranger getting soft in the middle was about as likely as me becoming a nun.

"Babe, you sure you want to bait me?"

I thought about that. I could feel his body heat, and my own body was heating up pretty fast. Adrenaline rush. Let's see how far I could push him before he did something uncontrolled… hopefully in a good way.

"It's too much fun not to." I grinned and threw caution to the next convenient breeze as I reached up to wrap my arms around his neck. "Would you prefer me to try the cowering thing again?"

He laughed, his hands catching my hips to pull me against him. "Never," he whispered. Then he kissed me, putting his lips against mine gently. I opened my mouth as his tongue traced my lips and as usual he didn't take the opportunity.

"You're too young to cower properly," he said, pulling away. "Inexperienced."

My jaw hit the floor. "Excuse me? Inexperienced?" His eyes were glittering with amusement. I tossed my head like any good impetuous young heroine. "Well, I suppose that beats being a Victorian antique, Professor Higgins."

"Victorian huh? Guess there's only one thing to do then," he said with a very wolf-like grin.

I didn't have time to move as his hands tightened on my waist and lifted. I screamed as I was unceremoniously thrown over his shoulder, although I had to admit the view of his backside wasn't so bad.

"Hey! Unhand me you villain! Professor Higgins is the good guy, remember?"

"Professor Higgins took too long," he said, reaching up and smacking my butt. "Quit moving."

"Hell no."

"Babe, if you don't stop moving I'm going to have my way with you on the stairs and the guys are due home in forty-five minutes."

I did some quick calculations, or what passed for them in my un-mathematical brain and I quit moving. I didn't mind the idea of stairs, but Lester would never let me hear the end of it. And Tank would bring it up at awkward moments because he and Ranger shared a demonic sense of humor.

"Have your way with me, huh?"

"It's the antique euphemism isn't it?"

I loved it when he said big words. Actually, I loved it when he said words at all. Ranger could have read the dictionary and made it better than phone sex. I hoped he never tried poetry on me. I'd probably turn into goo.

We made it to his room in what had to be record time and I found myself tossed on the bed. I had barely stopped bouncing when Ranger pounced on me.

"You need to be naked," he said, leaning over me and pressing his lips to a spot just below my ear that sent shockwaves through my body. I closed my eyes to savor the feeling and I heard the sound of cloth tearing. The cool air washed over my bare skin.

"I liked that shirt," I sighed, opening my eyes to watch him as he slid my jeans off. He didn't even have to undo the button, sadly. I had dropped a bunch of weight and hadn't had time to buy a new wardrobe. So maybe it wasn't that I felt too fat, exactly. Maybe I felt too skinny.

Ranger's body covered mine, and he kissed me, this time sliding his tongue into my mouth, teasing me until I was moaning. "You owe me, Babe," he said, gently biting my lip.

"Mmm?" I wasn't feeling too verbal now. I arched up against him, and concentrated on getting my hands under his shirt. If I had to be naked, he could at least lose a couple items.

"I've lost a lot of sleep, recently, Goldilocks," he said as I tugged the shirt off over his head.

"This mean you're finally collecting on your night?" I suggested hopefully as my eyes drank in the sight of his naked chest. I touched a small scar that slashed horizontal, just under his navel. Knife wound?

"With interest." The words pulled my attention back to the matter at hand, so to speak.

_Janet, I take it back .Maybe you aren't so bad after all._ I looked up into his eyes, which were almost black with desire, and scorching hot. Suddenly very aware of the hard, toned body pinning me to the bed I did what any good little heroine would do.

"Please be gentle with me?" I asked, batting my eyes and attempting to look innocent.

He threw his head back and laughed, his hair falling down around his face as I finally snagged the leather thong. "Maybe later..." his grin was predatory, "Much, much later."

And it was much later- Ranger was a master of scheduling.

Doomsday orgasms were apparently going to become de rigueur, I decided as I gradually started to wake up. I opened my eyes as a familiar hand brushed a few stray locks of hair away from my face and turned to look at the man lying next to me. His mocha complexion was darker than it had been, and his usually black hair had been touched with light brown from the sun.

I lifted my hand to trace the lines of his face, all hard angles and forbidding planes. Well, if planes could be forbidding. Maybe it was just he way he spent so much time not smiling that made him look forbidding. When he smiled, people did tend to walk into walls. Right now he didn't look forbidding, he looked… Relaxed. Yeah, I could second that emotion.

"Hey," I said, my voice heavy with exhaustion.

"You okay?" he asked, his eyes concerned. I smiled.

"Okay doesn't even begin to cover it. I'm just wondering about the encore."

Ranger's eyes gleamed with an unholy delight. "It'll be a challenge, but luckily I found something you might be interested in." There was a slight clink of metal as he held up a pair of handcuffs lined with black plush fur. I grinned.

"Where'd you find those?"

"Someone left them in the closet."

"Oops." I tried to look embarrassed and failed miserably.

"I found them this morning when I was unpacking. I've been thinking about you in them all day."

"Must have been rough."

Ranger smirked. "Paybacks, Babe," he said softly. My nipples contracted as all kinds of images flew through my head. The effect was not lost on him, and his laugh was quiet. "Anything you want to share?"

I smiled. "Yeah. Have I mentioned that I love you?"

"Y te amo, Moonbeam," he smiled.

"I hate that name," I said, all warm fuzzy feelings evaporating.

"Why?" Ranger looked genuinely puzzled, as if he thought it was a perfectly understandable name.

"Dude, must I reiterate? It's very hard to be an actual person named Moonbeam. The only worse thing would have been maybe Strawberry." Mm, strawberries sounded good, though. "How about lunch and then more playtime?" I asked hopefully. As much as I wanted to do the whole month long thing in bed with Ranger, I didn't want to pass out from low blood sugar in the middle of it.

Ranger gave me a steady, measuring look before he nodded his agreement. "Better get dressed, the guys are home."

"How did you—oh my god, did they hear?" I was suddenly horrified. In the dorms it was one thing, because you couldn't sneeze without two floors of people knowing about it, so people hearing sex was just like a thing. But housemates? Eeek.

"Relax," Ranger smiled. "They got home while you were passed out."

"You know, if you weren't all about killing me every time, I wouldn't pass out…"

His smile was arrogant. "The effects of experience..."

I sat up and glared at him. "Just you wait, Henry Higgins." I was rewarded with another laugh from my nemesis and being pulled back down to be pinned to his chest.

"Don't worry, I'll teach you everything I know," he chuckled with an annoying superiority.

"You are so egotistical!" I yelped and grabbed at the nearest pillow. He blocked it with his arm but he had to let me go. I took the opening and rolled away from him.

"Babe, you sure you want to play this game? I'm going to win." He had the predatory look again. But I was not feeling inclined to be a fluffy bunny.

"As if, old one."

He lunged and I shrieked as I dodged, flinging myself to the other end of the bed. Unfortunately I got tangled up in the duvet and didn't make it quite as far as I meant to. Ranger laughed and grabbed my legs, hauling me back.

I grabbed onto the edge of the bed and pulled against him. No way was I getting caught now. I was doing fairly well until his fingers brushed my instep, lightly. Oh no, breathe, ignore it…

I couldn't. The tickling wasn't going to stop. I yelped and let go of the bed frame as I desperately tried to curl up and get my feet out of danger.

"I knew it," Ranger said with a grin.

"Stop it!" I shrieked between tortured giggles. "Ranger! Stop! No!"

"I'm open for negotiations." He had me pinned. I couldn't even kick him. Damn it. Never get in a fight with Rambo.

"I'll…never…make fun…of…your…age…again," I gasped. "Please, stop it! I give up! You win! Surrender!"

"That's better." He released my foot and I shot up, nailing him with the pillow and rolling off the bed.

I made it two steps before I was swept up into a familiar pair of muscular arms and deposited back on the bed. Ranger straddled my hips, and with the ease of way too much practice, secured my hands over my head with the cuffs.

I pulled, but they were attached to something… oh, crap, the slats in the headboard… My eyes met Ranger's and his smile was one of pure lust. "Paybacks, Babe."


	4. Chapter 4

Navigating Nine Chapter 04

_Disclaimer:_ Janet's universe, not mine.

_Note:_ Hm, this isn't quite up to par, but it's something. I'm afraid if I don't write something and get it posted, my muse might take off for Katmandu again.

**00000000000000000000000000000000000**

"What time is it?" I asked when I could breathe again.

"Almost five."

I frowned, there was something I was supposed to do tonight, wasn't there? "Shouldn't we have worked on the case?"

"It'll be there tomorrow, babe." Ranger nuzzled my shoulder and I sighed.

"I keep thinking there's something..." a vision of the police department flashed through my head. Oh, crap. "Mom. I'm supposed to go to Mom's tonight! Ranger, get dressed."

"What?" he raised an eyebrow.

"I said get dressed, Higgs. You're going with," I told him as I moved to get up.

"Why?" he asked, pulling me back.

"Because I'm begging."

"Babe, you're not begging."

I opened my eyes wide and thought about sad things, like missing a sale at Gadzooks or losing a new pair of Dollhouse jeans. "Please, Ranger? Pretty please come with me?" I asked quietly.

Ranger scowled. "I hate it when you do that." I blinked and kept my hurt look in place. "Fine. I'll go with you."

I grinned. "You're the best."

"You're a con artist."

"Well, I have to have some sort of defense."

"Get dressed or we'll never leave," he advised seriously.

I laughed and climbed out of bed, wincing at the sudden revelation of just how sore I was. My gasp of pain didn't go unnoticed and Ranger was at my side in a moment.

"Babe?" he asked.

"Just sore. I guess I just don't have that stamina built up yet." I smiled, but he looked less than amused. Apparently noticing my worried glance, he smiled faintly, but it looked forced. "Ranger?"

"Guess it got a little out of hand. Why didn't you say something?"

"I liked it. Rough can be fun, just the sore isn't fun… Seriously, I'm fine." My stomach was tensing, and I didn't like the sudden feeling that I'd stumbled into something. There was that dreadful sensation of squickiness and things that were being left unsaid. I hated it when that happened. "Ranger, say it. Whatever it is, just say it."

He shook his head and stepped away, heading for the closet.

"Ranger? Did I do something?"

"No. No, babe, it isn't you."

"What happened?"

Silence. Goddess take it, I didn't have time for it. Fine, be squicky. Squick yourself silly, Batman. I sighed and rummaged through end of the closet that my clothes had come to reside in. I blamed the maid.

I'm a college kid, I'm not exactly familiar with these odd-shaped plastic things they put clothes on to place them in the closet. My closet generally looked like a shoe store had exploded and taken a Bebe outlet with it.

I pawed through the hangars and glared at my assortment of clothes. Nothing. Nada. I had nothing to wear. Picking out clothes for dinner with mom when she had a surprise was more intense than picking out a prom dress. Maybe even a wedding dress, considering the fact I was never getting married. And if I did get married it would be over fairly quickly. Like when I sobered up the next morning.

As I contemplated my pitiful array, I caught a glimpse of white and latched onto it. White and gauzy was always good. I grinned down at the glorified white gauze tank top, with its pretty ethnic-y embroidery. Maybe a little bit more than nada after all. Some espadrilles and some distressed jeans later, I was set. I left my hair in the tousled bed head look, added some dewy blush, gloss, and mascara and giggled as I skipped downstairs. I looked like someone named Moonbeam. Sometimes it was fun to embrace one's less-sane genetics.

Tank and Ranger were in the front room, talking quietly until I stepped through the door. I frowned as the conversation was dropped a little too quickly and Ranger stood up.

"You look like a hippy," Tank commented, giving me a skeptical once-over. My lips turned upward, but I didn't quite smile.

"The name is Moonbeam, after all."

"This mean you're going to let the world know your secret?" I jumped at the unexpected voice. Bobby was huge, but all of the guys had too much stealth for my well-being.

"Don't do that," I said, swallowing hard. "It's creepy. You're going to give me a twitch."

Bobby stepped up beside me with a full smirk firmly in place. "Need to be more aware of your surroundings." My answer came out of my mouth before could stop it.

"I am aware of my surroundings. I'm aware of the auras and cosmic harmonies of all things around me. My mind is so enraptured in awareness of the spiritual realm that it's hard to focus solely on the material plane."

Tank, Bobby and Ranger stared at me. I just laughed.

Ranger was quiet as we drove. Belatedly, I realized we weren't heading to the office; instead we were heading through an area I didn't recognize. Oh well, my Jeep would show up. It was just part of life in the Bat Cave- cars or anything else would eventually pop up. And I was pretty sure no one this side of sane would be stealing my car again anytime soon.

My musings lasted until we pulled up to a two story, ultramodern house featuring sky lights and solar panels. I think I might have been out of the truck before it stopped moving because I was in the door and hugging my mom before Ranger was even to the front steps. Amazing sex, independence, age categories aside, I had missed my mama. She had called a couple times, but no one outside Ranger's people knew anything much about the Abruzzi Incident and she had been uber-busy setting up her new shop and doing last minute things about her upcoming book release.

Mom held me close for a few moments before putting me back to give me a skeptical look. "Bad day, sweetheart?"

"Long couple weeks, actually."

"I missed you too," she smiled, her green eyes sparkling. I took a second to look her over; she was in a red sarong type skirt and a white tank top, and she looked ridiculously good in it. Silver jewelry dangled and chimed whenever she moved- heavy silver earrings, bangle bracelets, ankle bracelets even, and a large silver medallion set with a garnet.

"I love the outfit, mom."

"Thank you. I hope you love the new recipes I tried—oh, Ranger!" Mom looked past me and nodded a greeting. "So glad you could come."

I stepped away to give mom access so she could hug him and give him a welcome speech, and I caught a glimpse of her latest male companion moving around the kitchen. Derek was a suit. Well, he was actually a CPA or something, which meant he lived in a suit. I wasn't exactly certain how he ended up with Mom except that she stumbled across him in Scotland. The poor guy was totally head over heels, like all her other guys had been and would be. Some women have the grace to have difficulty finding a man, or at least more difficulty as they get older. My mom was going to be a New Age Blanche Devereux.

"Would you like a tour of the place?" Mom asked, looking from me to Ranger. I shook my head.

"I'm fine. Right now all I want is food. Did you say something about a surprise?"

Mom laughed and waved me toward the kitchen. "Go ask Derek if everything's ready. Surprises after dinner."

I headed for the kitchen, leaving Ranger in Mom's tender claws. Hopefully she wouldn't flambé him.

Derek looked up and smiled as I entered. He was handsome in an aging All American way, his hair had gone gray but it just made him look distinguished, and his blue eyes were all bright and alert. He didn't have a bad body either, for an older guy. Honestly, he didn't actually look like an accountant. He looked much too active for an accountant, but what did I know? Maybe he just had an addiction to the gym.

"Hi, Moonbeam. I was just heading out there—"

"Don't worry about it," I interrupted. "She's out there sinking her claws into Ranger. Poor guy, I hope she doesn't leave scars. At least it won't be like James Kilroy. He was this linebacker I dated like junior year of high school, and she made him cry. He wouldn't look at me for almost a year."

Derek chuckled as I breezed past him to glance at what was on the stove. A couple seconds of staring and I realized I had no idea what I was looking at. "Thai?" I guessed.

"No idea. Something Eastern."

I frowned and turned my attention back to Derek. "Please tell me you have a stash of Pepto around here somewhere."

"Quarts of it."

"Thank god. So, are you living here?" I asked, tilting my head and giving him another once over. He crossed his arms and his lips turned up in an almost smile.

"More or less."

"You talk almost as much as Ranger. I have an urge to get you both trashed," I sighed. "Too bad Mom doesn't throw many parties anymore. I could spike the punch. That used to be such a fun game."

"She told me about that. Said you used Everclear and got a whole conference full of Reiki people hammered."

I giggled at the memory. "Yep. They were seeing all kinds of chakras. Colors were just floating everywhere. I was hoping she'd take me somewhere in Europe. I'd have loved to try it with absinthe."

He looked like he might have loved to give me a good long lecture on responsibility, but thankfully mom chose that moment to enter, followed by Ranger. The next few minutes were the controlled chaos of setting the table and Mom attempting to explain the food choices. If I had recognized more than about ten percent of the actual ingredients I might have listened closer. As it was I just took a small amount of everything and hoped for the best. I'd barely gotten two bites into the first mystery dish, which tasted just very much like curried something when Mom decided she couldn't wait any more.

"Moonbeam, Ranger, I know I said this would wait until after dinner, but I'm just too excited," she said, sounding almost bubbly. "Derek and I have decided to have a handfasting!"

My fork hit the plate with an ominous clatter that seemed to echo in my ears. "Handfasting?" I asked, my voice sounded oddly strangled.

Mom nodded, beaming as she took Derek's hand.

Wow, Derek would be the first accountant in history to be handfasted.

And he'd be handfasted to my mother.

"Are you making this official, or just a hand fasting?"

"I haven't decided yet," Mom shrugged. "Anyway, we were hoping you would join us. We only want a small ceremony. I think Glorianna will be doing the ceremony. She is so good with public speaking and—"

I nodded, swallowing hard to keep my stomach from jumping up into my mouth. This wasn't right. Mom wasn't supposed to get… tied down. So what if it wasn't a traditional marriage, it was close enough. This was Janet's doing, it had to be, damn it. My mom didn't get married.

I let out a shaky breath and smiled. "This is awesome, mom. Are you going to announce it on the tour or are you keeping it totally hush hush?"

"Oh, I don't know. Probably we'll keep quiet about it until after the ceremony."

I could feel Ranger looking at me, but I didn't dare glance at him. Not yet. Right now I was taking a moment to feel like an immature, unhappy kid. It wouldn't do to let Bat Man see me like that. As if he didn't already know. Stupid ESP.

"Oh, crap," I said, looking up from my plate with a show of mock-frustration. "We have to go relieve Les and Tank out at Mrs. Apusenja's don't we?" I looked at Ranger. _Please, please just play along…_

He blinked once, then inclined his head.

"Oh, a new case, sweetheart?" Mom looked interested.

"Yeah, some dude skipped out on his Visa bond."

"I read about Vinnie putting up that bond in the paper… he isn't the brightest is he?"

"Not always. He really should have let Sebring do it," I said, with a shrug.

"It said in the paper that the man worked at TriBro," Derek looked very serious. "You be careful around that place. You hear about the murder a couple years back?" he glanced at Ranger, who nodded again.

"Vivian Paressi. The police suspected Bart Cone but couldn't prove it," he said.

I stood up and gave Mom a quick hug. "Thanks for dinner. I'll stop by the store tomorrow."

"Be careful, sweetheart." Mom looked worried. "I don't like that name, TriBro. I have a bad feeling about it."

"Don't worry, Rhianna," Ranger said from behind me. Mom's eyes left me, to give Ranger a very searching look.

"Mm. You be careful as well, Ricardo."

We were in the truck and heading for the office before Ranger finally spoke to me.

"You aren't happy about your mother and Derek?"

"Not that. I'm fine with her dating people. But handfasting? That's a half step from marriage. She doesn't even believe in marriage."

"Maybe she's changed her mind."

"I don't want to talk about it," I snapped and turned to stare out the window. If mom was going to get married again… what would that mean? What was going to happen? My life was shifting around like the sands of the Sahara, and this was just one thing too many.

I let out a sigh of relief when we pulled into the parking lot of the bonds office. "Thanks, Professor," I said, giving Ranger a quick smile as I opened my door. "I need to go get some ice cream, and I'll see you back at the house, okay?"

"Be careful, Babe."

"Aren't I always?" I asked, grinning as I shut the door and ran to my Wrangler, the keys jangling in my hand.


	5. Chapter 5

Navigating Nine Chapter 05

Disclaimer: Behold, it is Janet's Universe, but with a different main character. And if you made it this far without noticing, wow. That's talent. Also, in case you haven't noticed, this is not published and I am not making any money off it. Tragic, isn't it?

Note: Thank you to everyone for all the comments and support. You all rock socks, but you already know that.

**0000000000000000000000000000000000**

I hopped into the Jeep and set off for the grocery store. Tonight called forchocolate chip cookie doughice cream, courtesy of Ben and Jerry. Nothing remarkable happened until I was standing next to the Jeep, in the parking lot of the all-night grocery, holding my newly acquired ice cream and a plastic spoon snitched from the salad bar.

As I stood there, my right hand slowly going numb, I realized I didn't want to go to the manor. I didn't want to go back to Mom's. I didn't want to go to Dad's. I didn't even want to go back to the apartment.

Well, hell. This sucked. Where was I going to go?

If I went home to the Bat Cave I'd have to pretend that nothing was wrong or have a really long chat with Ranger. The problem was I wasn't completely sure what was wrong. Okay, fine fine that was a lie. I knew what was wrong.

What was wrong was that my mother was getting almost-married, and I wasn't sure what to do about it. The only thing I knew was that if I thought about it much I started feeling queasy and a little sea sick.

I didn't want to lose my mom. When mom was married she had been someone else entirely. I liked who she was now. I loved who she was now. I wouldn't know her if she got married. Marriage changed people. I was losing my mother to an accountant.

I opened the door of the Wrangler, tossed the ice cream into the passenger seat, and pulled out my cell phone, scrolling through numbers in search of inspiration. Lula was out on a date tonight, Connie was probably already in bed or dealing with husband number 5 (or was it six?), and I didn't feel up to explaining myself to Val, which left…

Wow. That didn't leave much. In fact that only left one number. I stared down at the LCD and picked up my ice cream again. I was going to need a few hits of cookie dough before I attempted this one. I finished my mini-carton too quickly for my own good and returned to staring at my phone.

I looked down at the empty mini carton and felt like crying. The rabbit hole just wouldn't end. Maybe I should go to TriBro. Getting shot by Clyde Cone couldn't be as bad as going slowly insane and not being able to tell anyone.

I sniffled and wished Dad wasn't in Canada. When one parent did something stupid, it always helped to go to the other one and vent. But that didn't help right now because Dad was out of touch- his cell phone didn't really get good reception at the hunting cabin. Damn it.

I was going to have to deal with the guys, then. I slumped in the seat as I turned the car on, suddenly tired.

So, what was it going to be? Home to the Batcave or… braving the unknown? I pursed my lips, trying to think what Stephanie would have done. Ugh. I knew what Stephanie would have done. Stephanie would have called Morelli. Stephanie would have gone back to her apartment. And damn it, what was I doing! I was not Stephanie.

Feeling righteously defiant, I dialed the remaining number and crossed my fingers. It rang twice before it was picked up.

"Wondered where you'd gotten to." I could almost hear a smile in Mac's voice.

"Sorry, I've been out of commission."

"I never would have pegged you as one for understatement, cutie. What can I do for you?"

I hesitated, but my desire for distraction quickly won out over any amount of caution I had. "I was wondering what you were up to tonight? I know it's kinda short notice and all but… I just… was hoping we could, you know, hang out or talk or something."

There was silence for a moment. "You're scaring me, kid. You don't do serious well."

"Tell me about it…" I felt my smile getting wobbly as my voice shook a little. "If you're busy that's cool," I said quickly.

"I'm not busy. I'm just finishing up some stuff at the dojo. I'll wait for you here."

My conscience whispered that I should tell him to forget it and go home, but it unfortunately used a voice that sounded suspiciously like my mom's, so I ignored it. "Thanks, I owe you one."

Mac chuckled. "You owe me way more than one by now. A good thing I like you." And he hung up.

I stuck my tongue out at the phone, flipped it closed, and headed to the gym.

Mac was waiting in the lobby when I pulled up out front. I had barely hit the pavement and shut my door when he motioned me on to his red Porsche. I raised an eyebrow at his new choice of vehicle.

He caught the look and grinned as he opened my door for me. "You got me hooked on them. Never seen anyone make destroying a transmission look so hot."

I tried not to giggle, but failed miserably. "Well, I live to amuse."

It was the last we spoke until Mac merged onto the highway. "So, to what emergency do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

"Maybe I just missed you?"

Mac's eyebrow rose as he glanced at me. In the shifting patterns of headlights I could have almost mistaken him for Ranger. "Try again."

I sighed and slumped back against the leather seat. "I needed to get out. Mom's getting handfasted, and something almost as bad is going to happen and I can't stop it and… and I'm going crazy. I wouldn't have bothered you, but Lula is on a date and Connie is finishing up her divorce and Ranger… I just couldn't talk to Ranger." I shook my head, feeling sillier by the moment, and turned to look at him.

"And then I thought, hey, I have my own Jedi Master. So I was hoping you could help me out, General Kenobi. Give me some words of ancient wisdom and stuff."

"And stuff," Mac echoed, with a pained look. "So, what is this that is going down that might be worse than your mom getting—handfasted? And what is handfasted? It sounds like some sort of surgical procedure."

I decided to ignore his first question for the moment. "It's like marriage, but different. Sort of a trial run marriage if you go with the old tradition- you would marry someone for a year and a day to see how it went then decide whether or not to make it permanent."

"Sounds like a good idea. Could have saved me a fortune in alimony…"

"You're divorced?"

Mac inclined his head, but didn't elaborate. "So what is worse than the trial marriage?"

"Nothing, it's just I have a bad feeling about this case we're all working on—looking for this Samuel Singh geek who skipped on his visa bond."

I had learned my lesson that night in Abruzzi's cabin. I was going to make sure someone else knew what might go down well in advance. "He worked at TriBro- and one of the owners of that was linked to a really nasty murder a couple years ago."

"Sounds like an average day at the office for you," Mac said, calmly.

I gritted my teeth. "Yeah, it's just... a bad feeling, I guess."

Mac slid his eyes to give me a quick, unreadable look, then turned back to the traffic as we turned off the road and into a parking lot out front of a small diner. "Maybe you're still jumpy after the Abruzzi thing. Maybe you need a little more time away from murders and psychopaths."

He was right. I was still jumpy, and I wasn't ready for this adventure. I didn't have Stephanie's resilience, I guessed, but Janet wasn't really giving me an option. I could quit the bounty hunting for a while, and let Clyde continue the killing game, because hey, they were mainly just killing each other right? But what about that cop they had killed the last game… who would be next if I stepped out of it?

I bit my lip, thinking that my ethics teacher should have given this dilemma to us. Well, maybe he had… Your life or a stranger's, who do you pick?

I almost jumped out of my skin as Mac's arm came around my shoulders. He gave me another look I couldn't interpret. I was going to have to get a Martian decoder ring or something. "You need to be more aware of your surroundings."

I opened my mouth to give him the retort I had given Bobby, but didn't have the heart for it. Instead I went the simple route. "Grrr."

Mac almost smiled. "Cute."

We got a seat in the back and the waitress almost managed not to drool as she took our orders. Mac told me about some new classes they were adding to the dojo, and quizzed me on a few moves. He and my dance teacher had that in common- if you couldn't actually do the routines, you should go over them in your head.

He corrected me a few times and I was ready to kiss the waitress when she showed up with the food. I didn't want to have to list off tricky martial arts names anymore.

Midway through dinner, Mac's phone rang, and while he had a short, clipped, typical convo, I stirred my milkshake, attempting to make a perfect spiral. It was a lot harder than it looked.

I watched as he flipped his phone shut and glanced out the window. "Enemies at the gates?" I asked.

"Not yet." He was looking at my milkshake. "Didn't your mother ever teach you not to play with your food?"

I smirked. "Nah, she was too busy teaching me about tantric sex."

Mac shook his head. Not the shocked reaction I had hoped for. "You are a twisted little girl."

"Yep. And you love me for it." I flipped my hair for good measure.

"You have no idea."

I blinked, trying to puzzle out what that response was about, and gave up. "So… There's a question I've been dying to ask you…" Mac eyed me warily, and my smile widened. "It's about Smurfs..."

No one was on the main floor when I got back to Wayne Manor. Normally at least one of the guys would have materialized, but I was too tired to question my luck. Probably they'd just checked the cameras for once. Yawning for the benefit of said cameras, I trudged upstairs.

I didn't allow myself to think anything until I was safe behind the closed bedroom door; and even then it was only a moment of thanks that Ranger was still elsewhere. Without further ado, I stripped off my clothes, pulled on a nightie, and crawled into bed. Everything else could wait, because Scarlett was in control, assuring me that there would be plenty of time to worry about it tomorrow when I felt better. I sniffled, burying my head in my pillow. Staying here with Ranger, being all grown up and stuff was great, really it was, but I missed my teddy bear.

That was officially my last thought before someone touched my shoulder. I swatted the hand away and burrowed further into the blankets.

"Babe, wake up," Ranger's voice was warm with humor. Damned morning bats.

"Mmphmmntm," I mumbled into the pillow, not even bothering to enunciate. He had ESP, he could figure out that meant: "Go away damn it. I'm sleeping. Go do something useful. Take over a small corporation. Incite an insurgency. Stage a coup. Just do it somewhere else."

"You have thirty seconds or I'm getting the ice water." Devious little monkey.

"Sup?" I asked, sighing heavily as I was forced to open my eyes, blinking at the amount of sunlight streaming into the room.

"I've got a job for you."

I squinted up at his faintly-smiling face. Mmm, he hadn't shaved. That could be fun. "Job?" I asked, thinking of several jobs that I'd have liked to do just then, although most of them weren't fit for polite résumés. Ranger's eyes darkened and I was suddenly aware of the fact that my nightie was a sheer clingy scrap of white courtesy of Victoria Secret.

I stretched for his benefit, arching my and extending my arms.

"Babe, we need to work on your timing," he said, his voice slightly lower than normal. My smile was slow and smirk-y.

"No, we need to work on your anal retentive attention to schedules. You rule the world, it's okay to be late sometimes."

"I don't rule the world."

"Well, you're the big boss CEO thingy. Same difference."

Ranger shook his head, apparently giving up on trying to explain the hierarchy of the business para-military type world. Probably it would take too many words. "I need you to go undercover for the day."

I blinked, suddenly much more unpleasantly awake, and just a little wary. "Undercover where?"

"TriBro."

"Oh good," I said, relaxing a little. "I'm still asleep."

He shook his head and gently tugged on a lock of my hair. "No you're not."

"You just said you want me to work undercover at TriBro," I pointed out. "One of us is obviously dreaming."

"Babe, it's only for the day."

I bit my lip and sat up, pulling my legs in to wrap my arms around my knees, my eyes never leaving Ranger. This wasn't going to be pretty, and I didn't want to do this, but… "No."

Ranger blinked, and I swore something like surprised flashed across his face. "Are you sure?" he asked, his eyebrow raising slightly.

"What do you think?" I retorted. "I told you I'd help any way I could, as long as I didn't have to go near TrollBros."

There was a couple beats of silence. "None of the guys can do it."

"And that's my issue? Maybe if you had some less scary people on pay roll…"

Ranger smirked. "You are the less scary people."

"Then I quit. I have to go get some prison tattoos this morning, and I have a date with Hell's Angels for lunch. I'm booked solid."

He was watching my closely, and I could feel his dark brown eyes going into armor piercing mode. He was using ESP X-Ray vision on me. No fair. "Please," he said quietly.

That one bloody syllable, spoken so… so… so Ranger-like…

"FINE!" I exploded, throwing the covers off of myself and practically jumping out of the bed. "Fine, whatever. I'll go work at TrollBro!" I huffed, stomping to the closet and grabbing the first of my T-shirts I saw. I whirled on him, brandishing the hangar to illustrate my point.

"But when I get stalked, molested, and murdered, I want you to remember that I am coming back and haunting you, Higgs."

"I'll remember," he said, but he wasn't smiling. I didn't care. He had just gotten me to go into the Hellmouth, alone against the Master, and I couldn't even explain it. I hated not being able to explain stuff.

I glared at him, put the hangar back in the closet and stormed into the bathroom with my bundle of clothes for the day, locking the door behind me. Not that it was going to do anything, but it was more to make a point.

By the time I showered, dressed, did the make-up and got downstairs Ranger was gone and so were Les and Tank. The housekeeper, a nice Puerto Rican lady named Rosa, was busy vacuuming one of the other rooms. I grabbed the lone leftover bagel on the kitchen counter, a courtesy from Tank, and headed off to face the unknown. Well, not entirely the unknown, more like the uncertain.

There were days it really sucked to be me. I had a feeling this was going to be one of them.


	6. Chapter 6

Navigating Nine Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Janet owns the Plumverse. I'm not making any money off this.

Note: Hey guys! Thanks as always for all your support and encouragement, it means so much. I hope this chapter is enjoyable.

**000000000000000000000000000000000000000**

TriBro was a cinderblock fortress, the kind of gray monotonous place known for slowly leeching the life from anyone who touched it. Rose Red in factory form, and here I was walking inside like a naïve idiot. Hell, it even had a resident monster or two. One day, just one day and it would all be over. All I had to do was stay away from or not attract the attention of Clyde Cone. How hard could it be?

"Come on, feet," I said quietly as I pasted a stage smile on and walked up the steps. Inside it was small-business tasteful, with a receptionist who was almost genuinely friendly. I introduced myself as being from RangeMan LLC, because I despised giving out my name lately. I never knew what to say- Stephanie or Alyssa? I didn't like the name Stephanie, it made me feel like I should crimp my hair and run around with people named Kiki and Candy.

A man with thinning brown hair appeared in the doorway behind the receptionist and I smiled at him. He wasn't wearing black or a Buzz Lightyear t-shirt. He was wearing Dockers and a blue button down shirt that worked for his slender build, and brown eyes.

"Mr. Cone?" I guessed.

"Andrew Cone," he said, returning my smile and ushering me into his office. It was neat, orderly, decorated with pictures of his two boys, his wife, the family dog. Depressingly normal, to my demented way of thinking, or maybe the word was 'repressively.'

"Nice to meet you," I offered my hand and he shook it with a true businessman's grip, firm enough to be strong without being threatening. They actually taught that nowadays, I'd learned it during one of my marketing courses. "I'm Stephanie Plum," I said pleasantly, managing to say the line without stuttering. Would it really be so bad to just give in and go by Moonbeam?

"How does a nice girl like you end up working bond enforcement?" Andrew asked as he took his seat and leaned back, looking at ease behind the modest desk.

"Downsizing," I said with a shrug. He nodded in understanding.

"Have you ever worked anywhere like TriBro before?"

Heh, right. Good thing this wasn't a real interview. My work experience was herding cattle and explaining to lost yuppies the mystical properties of various stones, herbs, and Celtic knots. "Nope. I'm not even sure what you make here."

Cone chuckled. "We make very specific parts for slot machines- machine tooled gears and locks. Samuel Singh was a techie. He worked in quality control, as a temp for a lady who's on maternity leave. Primarily his job consisted of measuring minutia because each part we supply must be perfect. You wouldn't be expected to know much your first day onboard, so lets see how good you are at bluffing." He had a small smile on his face and I shook my head, wondering how bored he must be to get this much amusement from sending a fake employee to work.

Everything was already set up, so he took me on out on a tour of the Troll Factory. We ended up in a huge warehouse type place that adjoined the offices and the actual factory floor. The far end was sectioned off into one long room for quality control, which was further sectioned off by cubbies with tables full of odd Inquisitorial torture devices, magnifying glasses and other oddities. There were seven tables, one person to each table, and one table empty. Joy, I had a spot in the cafeteria of doom.

Andrew left me in the tender talons of Anne Klimmer the manager, who had obviously spent a past life presiding over military prisons. She even had the moustache for it. Anne introduced me to the team, which was several women in their thirties or forties and two men.

I was lectured on procedures and then attached to Jane Locarelli, who looked like an old, slightly dead Laura Flynn Boyle. Rail thin, late forties, drained of color. She even spoke in a slurred, monotone voice as if the effort of speaking was just too much. Factory Rose Red was slowly draining her life away and she probably never even noticed.

She had worked here since she got out of high school. I had to wonder what she was like then. Was there any of that girl left in her? I looked at her closely, but I couldn't see it. All I saw was the gray skin, dull eyes, faded hair and a chill ran down my spine. My inner voices were screaming at me to run, run away and never look back.

Jane selected a gear from a huge barrel of gears and put it under the microscope, looking it over carefully for flaws. My stomach knotted as she passed the first gear and selected another. "We do two kinds of testing here," she began her next assigned speech and I zoned out, unable to bear listening to the slurred dead voice. If I survived this I would send her a quartz crystal. She could use the energy.

"Would you like to try one?" Jane asked.

"Sure." _No. Don't make me touch it. Let me out of here! Help! Save me, Obi-Wan Kenobi! _

Jane handed me a gear and showed me how to measure it. Hah, measuring. Now I didn't have to worry. Slide rules would never let me stay near them. "I think it's okay," I said doubtfully, staring unhappily at the silver doohickey.

"No, not quite. There's a burr on the edge there." She took the measurement thing and the doohickey back. "Maybe you should watch for a little while longer."

I watched for two more gears and couldn't take it any longer. I had to do something. I slid off my stool and looked at the next cubicle where Dolly Freedman was guzzling coffee and just generally butchering her job. She was so hyped on caffeine she was almost tweaking.

"Is anybody looking?" she asked, grabbing a handful of gears and dumping them into the finished pile.

"They looked good to me," I said with a shrug. I tried to remember, what was I doing here? Looking for clues about Singh. But I didn't need clues about Singh. Singh was in Vegas, and he was getting hunted by the Insane Cone Posse. There was going to be some guy named Howie at a McDonalds who was gonna get a McBullet.

So why was I here again?

Oh yeah, cause I wasn't supposed to know all that yet. I was here to pretend to find it out. Ugh. I was going mad. I was losing brain cells. I decided to stand and watch Dolly tweak. Not like I was going to get fired anyway. _Alas.__ Woe is me_.

It was almost lunch time when a guy in a black suit stormed in. For a split second I was hopeful Ranger had sent one of the Merry Men to relieve me, but it was dashed as I got a better look, my eyes unglazing from the hours of horrific boredom. The guy looked a little like Andrew Cone, but with darker, less plentiful hair.

"Who are you?" He demanded. I glanced at Jane who had once again been showing me the ropes of how to stare at little metal things. Jane was staring at Blackie. I smiled and put out my hand, trying to look charming. Time to dust off the bubbly blond routine.

"Hi, I'm Stephanie Plum. Mr. Cone just hired me and it's my first day. Jane's just showing me how to do stuff…" I kept my voice perky and my smile slightly vapid.

"Which Mr. Cone?" he asked, shaking my hand out of reflex more than actual desire to greet me.

"Umm… Andrew," I said, looking puzzled. "Is there more than one?" I could almost see Blackie dismissing me mentally. Maybe if I acted dumb enough he'd fire me on the spot. Good. It was fun to play ditzy fluff bunnies.

"He did," Bart muttered, his gaze darkening. "Come with me, Ms. Plum."

I widened my eyes and looked startled as he turned and stalked away. I smiled at Jane and hightailed it after him.

Bart stomped into his office and punched some numbers on the phone. "You hired a new employee without consulting me! This is my department, Drew…"

"Calm down, Bart, she's only—" Andrew's voice was cool and collected.

"I don't give a damn what she is. I didn't sign off on hiring her."

"She's not hired," Andrew sounded vaguely annoyed now.

Bart blinked at the news. "What the hell is she doing in my shop then?"

"I'm with the bonds company for Samuel Singh. We're investigating his disappearance," I interrupted. "It was arranged for me to be a fake employee for a day to see if I could turn up anything new from his co-workers."

His eyes narrowed even further and the scowl he was laying on me could have shriveled small plants. "I don't care. They can send someone else in. You get out of my factory."

I stared at him for a beat. Ranger would be pissed that I hadn't stayed all day, but I already had the information I came for. I'd had it before we even got here. I could say now that I just worked fast or something. Did I really want to lose any more of my life to Rose Red? Jane the dead Lara Flynn Boyle flashed across my mind's eye.

"Fine, Mr. Cone. I've already gotten enough information anyway." I shrugged and gave him my professional courtesy smile. "Thank you for your cooperation. We'll be in touch."

I turned and hurried out the door before he could change his mind and send me back to the Hellmouth. I was so busy concentrating on my escape I never even heard the other person rounding the corner and we ran straight into one another.

I bounced off a slightly tubby front and took a quick step back to regain my balance, blinking away the surprise.

"Oh, gee, I'm sorry, I never look where I'm going. Are you all right?" asked a solicitous voice. I looked in horror at the slightly chubby front, which was wearing a Buzz Lightyear t-shirt that had seen many, many better days. I looked up from the ghostly faded image of Buzz to a chubby boyish face with big round glasses and tousled brown hair. My heart was trying to burst through my ribcage. I could feel my hands shaking.

I took a deep breath and smiled at Clyde Cone.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just leaving…" I said, side stepping to get around him and practically jogging down the hall. Still I wasn't fast enough.

"Hey, wait a second!" he called. I froze and turned around, fighting every instinct of my body.

"Yeah?" I asked.

"You look familiar," Clyde said, hurrying toward me. "Do I know you?"

"Nope, 'fraid not."

"Well, okay," he frowned, looking doubtful.

"It was nice to meet you, Mr. Cone."

"Just Clyde. What was your name again?"

"Stephanie Plum." _Oh shit. Oh hell. Oh damnation. Why did I say that?_ _I hate you Janet._

His face brightened and my stomach dropped. "You were in the paper or something… you killed that one guy- the boxer?"

Hm, now it's a funny story, you aren't going to believe it… or maybe you would, since you have your own twisted reality… Was it a sick sad commentary that I was considering spilling my insane story to the sociopath who would soon probably try to stalk and kill me?

"Benito Ramirez," I said, nodding. "Please, I really don't like to talk about it," I added, doing my very best distressed maiden look.

"Right. Sorry… but you are a bounty hunter… wow, what are you doing here? Are you looking for a criminal?"

"Looking for Samuel Singh."

"Do you have a gun and everything? I bet when you find somebody you take 'em down, like nothing, right?"

Wow, he was an even better actor than I was. If I hadn't read the book I would have totally bought the harmless puppy act. "Sometimes, if I'm lucky. Look, I'm sorry, but I have to run," I smiled apologetically.

"Aw, that bites. Hey, maybe we could go get lunch sometime?"

"Maybe." _If I decide to give up on mercenaries and date full-out sociopaths_.


	7. Chapter 7

Navigating Nine Chapter 07

**Disclaimer:** I am not Janet Evanovich and the universe this story is set in belongs to her. No money is being made from this.

**Note:** Well, I had to torture Ellen somehow… and you know this is what would happen if Steph wasn't actually her daughter. A HUGE thank you to CSIQueen and everyone else for the kind reviews, emails, and support in general.

**000000000000000000000000000000**

I sat in the Wrangler, staring at my hands on the steering wheel. So pale. I needed to tan, desperately… or maybe it was the blood draining to somewhere else… I was shaking. I took deep breaths and tried to force myself calm. Soothing blue light, protective purple, energetic yellow, I conjured the sensations and color in my head, concentrating on anything but what had just happened.

That was it. I was officially never giving my name as Stephanie, ever again. Let people figure it out on their own, they didn't need any bloody hints. Moonbeam, Alyssa, it didn't matter, just anything but Stephanie. I didn't want to be Stephanie. Being Stephanie was getting me no where but torture pain and death.

I blanked out my mind and turned the ignition on. I wasn't due anywhere for awhile, I could go do something anything that would reinvigorate me. TriBro had just sucked months of my life, I was certain of it. So where would I go?

Wherever the Wrangler wanted to go, I decided as I pulled out of the lot and turned onto the street. I flipped on the CD player and cranked the volume until I was blasting the Scorpion King soundtrack. It was loud, angry, and clashing, plus it made it really hard to think. Just what the doctor ordered. And the mental images of The Rock in skimpy armor didn't hurt matters much either.

I wasn't overly surprised when my car pulled itself up to the curb outside Dad and Ellen's house. Actually, it was Grandma Mazur's house according to Val, and Dad just hadn't gotten around to buying a house here in Trenton yet.

I suspected he, like the Frank Plum of yore, was secretly hoping Grandma would cash in the old poker chips, as Janet liked to say. Although I wasn't completely sure of this because Grandma Mazur seemed more like Dad's type than Ellen did, except for her age.

I got climbed out of the Jeep and the door of the house opened to reveal Grandma Mazur herself, wearing what I hoped was a spiky red wig and a white velour jogging suit. Paint a blue stripe or two on her and she'd have made a great entry to the next forth of July parade. "Nice look Grandma," I said as I walked up the steps. "Very Tommy Hilfiger." On a bad day, when he'd been drinking too much Cristal, maybe…

"You look zombified," she said, eyeing me critically. "You been on a tough assignment?"

"I feel zombified." I sighed, and wondered whether it was worth it to explain again that although I lived with Batman I still had not become La Femme Nikita. Nah, why fight the impossible? "Rough as hell. I had to work in a factory all morning."

Grandma scowled. "What kind of assignment is that? You piss off your boss?" she asked as we headed into the house.

"Possibly," I admitted. "Where's daddy?"

"He had a lunch meeting, so it's just your mother and I. Val had to go to a parent-teacher conference about Mary Alice."

Oh, crap. I forgot about Ellen and I not speaking. I winced. "I could come back later."

"Don't be ridiculous, you two need to have it out. I'll keep my stun gun handy to referee."

I looked at her skeptically. Somehow I suspected this might call for something a little more powerful than a stun gun. Like maybe rhino-sized tranquilizer darts.

I was right. Stepping across the threshold of the kitchen was like stepping into an ambush.

Ellen turned to greet us and I could almost see the glacial frost slide over her features. "Stephanie," she said in disapproving tones, as if it were the name of some odious disease. I couldn't be offended, I was having my own distaste of that particular name at the moment. "How nice to see you."

Right; almost as nice as waking up to a fever blister the morning of a big date by the looks of it. "Hi, Ellen."

Grandma Mazur cleared her throat and brushed past me to start putting together a sandwich at the counter. "Well, don't stand there staring, fix a plate!"

Ellen's cold brown eyes dared me to move.

"Umm, I'm not really hungry. I just stopped by to talk to Dad," I said with an apologetic look at Grandma. Ellen let out a disdainful sniff.

"I liked that car you got," Grandma said over her. "Jeeps are so cute, I ought to get me one."

"You'd like it."

"You got a new car?" Ellen asked, with strained courtesy as she assembled her sandwich. I blinked in surprise.

"Yeah, Dad just—" I caught myself and cleared my throat. "Didn't he tell you?" Grandma turned around to give me a warning look but it was too late by half.

"Tell me?" Ellen's voice was shrill. "When would he have told me? It's not as though we're on speaking terms anymore," she bit out. I winced.

"Sorry, I didn't know—"

"No, you wouldn't would you? It's not as if you know what you could have put Valerie through! What you put me through! What you put your father through!" the volume rose with every word until she was yelling. I closed my eyes and bit my lip as I felt a migraine begin to start.

"I'm sorry!" I said emphatically. "It wasn't my fault."

"It's never your fault is it, _Moonbeam_," she hissed. I choked and felt my chin dropping open. "God, you are just like your flake mother." Ellen sat her plate down on the counter so hard I was surprised it didn't break. "Get out of my sight. You aren't welcome and you aren't wanted."

She turned and faced out the window, refusing to look at me. I had been dismissed. I narrowed my eyes and was about to say something nasty when a sound just behind me caused me to spin around.

My father was striding through the dining room, his face thunderous and slightly reddened. His blue eyes blazed with something I had not seen since that awful day in that decrepit Johnson county courtroom so long ago.

I swallowed hard and stepped out of his way, but I wasn't fast enough. His hand snagged my arm, not rough but not letting go anytime soon as he dragged me into the kitchen. Ellen had turned around now and I could see something close to fear in the set of her shoulders. Grandma Mazur nodded a greeting to dad as she sat down at the table, munching on her ham sandwich and settling in for the show.

I glanced between Dad and Ellen, then down at where he held my arm. I was stuck until he wanted to let me out- Dad wasn't quite six feet tall, but he had the same muscle mass he had twenty years ago. In fact with the exception of a couple added pounds at the waist and some lines at the eyes, he had pretty much the same body he had twenty years ago. Some people had the grace to age with the passing of time, but my parents had both missed the memo.

"Ellen," Daddy's voice was deadly calm, "I think you ought to apologize."

Her spine straightened and her chin tilted up. "I think I don't. She is the one who needs to apologize, Frank."

"So you stand by your decision? My daughter is no longer welcome in your house?"

"Yes." The word was quiet, but her tone was firm.

Daddy let go of my arm, but I couldn't move. I was frozen, pulled into the undertow of the rising hostility. His eyes glanced at me and for a split second I met his gaze. I didn't know what he could see in mine, and I didn't recognize what I saw in his.

His attention swung back to Ellen. "Whatever wild hare you got in that head of yours, Ellen, you ain't blaming my girl for it."

"God damn it, Frank!" she exploded, as if the pressure had been building inside her for years. "It's never her fault! They kidnap Valerie, nearly kill her, and you don't even care! You never care about anything except_ her_," she spat the word at me.

"Iamso sick of you excusing her. Valerie spent half her life trying to please you and you didn't notice, did you? Too busy jetting back to that damned ranch or building your precious business. You never even tried to be here—"

"That's enough," Dad was almost growling. "You wouldn't leave this fool place and I didn't push you. You wanted _your_ daughter to be a good damned housewife, I didn't interfere. Now she finally cut those apron strings you had her tied up in, and you can't stand it. Don't ever take it out on Moonbeam."

I had been beginning to edge my way toward the door until he said my name. Dad never said my name. I forgot my escape plan and was reduced to staring like an idiot as my stepmother made her retort and dad fired back. The volume was going up again, and someone was bound to call the cops soon. I wondered if Mabel next door might.

A tug on my elbow jerked me out of my stupor and I found myself staring at Grandma Mazur. She moved her head toward the living room and guided me out. "He called me Moonbeam," I whispered as we walked through the dining room. He knew my name. I'd always thought dad had had a selective memory lapse as to the text on my birth certificate.

"I noticed," she replied quietly.

"Have- have they been fighting a lot recently?"

"Honey, they've been fighting their whole marriage. It's a wonder they lasted this long."

"I'm sorry. Maybe I should come around less?"

Grandma Mazur frowned. "You know that wouldn't help. Besides, I'd miss you. You're about the only one around here who keeps me sane."

I smiled and turned out the roar of voices from the kitchen. "I'd miss you too. And Dad… what did he mean about Valerie cutting the apron strings?"

"Oh, you haven't heard?" Grandma's face brightened. "She and the girls are moving in with that nice Jack you introduced her to."

"I bet he loves Mary Alice," I said without meaning to. She just chuckled.

"That girl's a pip, she takes after me. It must have skipped a generation with Ellen," she added sadly. "Ellen's just like her father."

I put my hand on Grandma's shoulder. "She's probably just in shock. I'm surprised Val is just moving in with him like this… no marriage proposal even?"

"Nope. Says she's through with marriage." Grandma's eyes regained their usual sparkle. "About time she stood up to Ellen, too. She only married Steve because Ellen thought he was such a good match, you know."

I grimaced, but felt a distant surge of pity for Ellen. All she wanted was a normal family, and instead she gets the pick of the dysfunctional litters. "I guess it's a good thing she didn't become a lesbian, though."

Grandma laughed. "I told Ellen that."

"So, do you know wh—" I trailed off as my father stomped into the room.

"Sweetheart, let's go get some lunch. I'm starving," he said.

I glanced at Grandma and waited for her to nod permission. "Sure, Dad," I smiled as if nothing in the world were wrong. "I could almost eat a horse myself."

Dad nodded shortly, looked at Grandma and smiled a little. "Sorry about this, Edna."

"Don't you worry about it. Needed to be said," she waved a hand dismissively. "Now go get some food. I'll handle her."

I followed Dad outside, a nervous sensation settling into the pit of my stomach. His shoulders were set and he was radiating tension. Suddenly, I wished I had listened in on the fight.


	8. Chapter 8

Navigating Nine Chapter 08

_Disclaimer:_ Not one Janet Evanovich was harmed in the making of this fan fiction. The universe is hers. The main plot is hers. The characters are hers and I promise to put them all back where I found them. However Ranger needs to be strip searched first.

Note: Thank you to all the BGGW, that supersuit and tiara are helping a lot.

_CSIQueen:_ Thank you so much! As for your characterization question: I'm not sure that I do keep them true, but I try. I attempt to keep their lines reasonably close to what they say in the book during those parts and in the rest of it I tend to rewrite several times (for Ranger I write a normal conversation then delete most of his dialogue).  
_VerieaFornnan:_ Thank you, I am glad you've enjoyed both stories so far! No, I didn't skip any books. The last was eight and this is nine. I believe Ramirez got killed in seven. Oh, I did skip Visions of Sugar Plums though...

**000000000000000000000000**

I climbed into dad's hulking Ford truck and buckled in, although he usually wasn't one for driving like a maniac. Still, I hadn't ever dealt with him after a fight with Ellen, I didn't know how he might react. He turned on the engine and pulled out of the driveway, the radio coming to life in the middle of an Alan Jackson song.

I smiled a little as I realized the cab somehow smelled like hay and there were Dr. Pepper bottles on the floor. It was reassuring that some things would never change. We turned out of the Burg and I waited for Dad to break the silence. When Alan's voice finally faded he cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," he said without taking his eyes off the road.

"It's fine," I reassured him.

"No, it isn't, darlin'. Me and Ellen… we're not getting on too well." _Ah, Daddy, you always were Captain Obvious_. "And we haven't been for a while."

"Dad, you don't have to explain it to me. If you want to get a divorce, it's okay."

Dad's eyes finally left the road to regard me with a wary curiosity. "How'd you know?"

I raised my eyebrow. It probably wouldn't be a good time to explain that I could have sworn he'd already gone through several divorces. "That didn't sound like the yelling that you just hug and make up from."

Dad pulled into a parking lot and I wasn't surprised to see we were at Big Jim's. You can take the cowboy out of the Midwest but you can't deny him barbecue. Not if you want to live too long. "Ever been here?" Dad queried. "It ain't the best ever, but it's about as good as you can get this side of the Mississippi."

"You're just biased 'cause it isn't The Cattleman's Club."

Dad smiled. "Well, it isn't."

I shook my head and we headed in. Although there were people waiting, we were shown to a booth almost immediately, but it still took us almost fifteen minutes to get to because Dad stopped or was stopped by people at almost every single table or booth to exchange greetings, small talk, and other pleasantries. I fell into my accustomed place a little behind him, smiling politely, speaking when introduced or when I could add a comment. I tended to forget about this particular ordeal of being in public with him. He knew everyone. Or if he didn't know them they knew him.

If he'd ever been so inclined he probably could have run for president or at the very least a governor spot. But politicians didn't get to get dirty or ride bulls, so the world at large was mercifully safe from my father. The world of business however; that was another story.

Once we finally got to the table and ordered, Dad sat back to give me an assessing look. "I forget sometimes that you aren't just a baby," he said after a full minute. His eyes were filled with regrets. I thought about my childhood, about all the times he hadn't shown up or he'd been somewhere else; all the dance recitals and plays and games and competitions he'd either forgotten or disregarded in favor of going after that next ride, that next business venture.

"Time flies when you're having fun," I shrugged. Dad grimaced.

"I deserved that," he muttered, more to himself than to me.

"Daddy," I interrupted, giving in to the twinge of guilt. "You did your best, mostly. I know that. And you always let me know you loved me and you always at least gave me five minutes if I called. That's a lot more that some people get."

"I'm sorry I didn't do better back then."

I smiled. Yeah, but if he had done better he wouldn't feel guilty and I wouldn't have a new Jeep. It wasall about trade-offs. You give me this I forgive that. The old term was 'indulgences.' "Don't worry about it. You have enough problems right now. Like attorneys and alimony if you're serious."

Dad sighed and pressed a hand over his blue eyes. "I don't know what else to do, sweetheart. I tried everything."

I pursed my lips and tried to think of something helpful. Giving relationship advice to your parents wasn't something that came with the offspring handbook. "Do you love her?"

Dad's hand dropped to the table. "What?"

"Well, if you love her, you can't just call in the lawyers. So do you?" I looked at him, watching his reaction closely. His jaw tensed and his shoulders squared… his eyes were blank. Damn it, was that some sort of adult male trick I had previously been unaware of?

"Darlin' I don't—" he shook his head, "Christ, I don't know how to say this but…"

I sat back, suddenly uncomfortable. "You don't love her," I said, my voice soft and cautious.

"I do love her." His eyes were regretful again, but this was a whole different sort of regret. "It's just not that kind you're thinking it is."

I forced my mouth to close on the questions I was dying to ask. Did you love mom that way? Or the other way? Do you even remember if you loved her? Was this what happened to you two? What kind of love? What are we even talking about?

"You're not happy, are you?" I asked instead.

"I am, honey. I'm happy." But the voice didn't match the words.

"Daddy, you're the one who has to decide. Just remember Val and I are grown ups now. Val's getting divorced herself." And with that I ran out of clever things to say.

We were silent as the waitress returned with our plates, then we filled the silence by eating. I didn't finish my ribs and Dad gave me a sharp look as the waitress came to collect the plates.

"We'll have some dessert," he requested. "Cheesecake, I think." I opened my mouth to protest and got a cold blue glare for my effort.

"I don't know what the hell kind of diet your mother's got you on, but you're half skin and bones. You're a bounty hunter, not a model. You're going to eat."

My teeth clicked together as I tried to get up the courage to tell him I was a grown up girl and fully capable of setting my own diet and watching my own weight, but my well-honed sense of self preservation won out. You just didn't talk back to your dad, no matter what age you were cause he could still tan your hide.

I settled for glaring right back at him. But I ate the cheesecake, because if the weight loss got to the point he noticed it, I probably looked like Kate Moss. Dad waited until the last crumb was gone from my plate before he called for the check.

I sulked all the way back to the truck.

"Don't give me that," Dad said in a warning tone.

"Sorry. But maybe I want to lose weight?" I demanded.

Dad snorted. "Then you're damned crazy. You turn sideways and stick your tongue out you might pass for a zipper."

Ah, ever the poet. I rolled my eyes.

Dad dropped me by my Jeep then headed back to his office, taking the time to promise to call me and let me know where he would be staying. I waved once in the direction of the house, smiled at Mabel who was on her front porch smoking, and took off. I headed for the apartment. I really needed to start thinking about getting rid of it.

Mom had dropped by it once and phoned me immediately after that she had a perfectly suitable room for me, and to please get rid of it. She said it had negative energy, was out of alignment with the geophysical lines of harmony and furthermore needed a good psychic cleansing. According to her she had seen more cheerful funerals than that apartment.

I would have liked to have argued with her but I couldn't. It's hard to think up an argument that will appease a dragon when you actually agree with them. That and she had already talked to the building's owners, knew exactly when my lease was up, and had handed me a stack of real estate options more suited to my cosmic needs and within my budget. Efficiency is important, even in New Age guru dragon queens.

So the old dorm-like apartment would probably be a thing of the past in two months whether Janet willed it or not. I could either get another apartment that was more secure to not live in, or I could move in with mom, or I could continue coexisting in the Bat Cave.

Okay, so barring major catastrophe I would probably be staying in the Bat Cave, but I still needed to decide if I felt the necessity of an escape route a la Steph and Morelli… Ew. Okay. There went the other apartment. I was not doing that crap.

It would be swim or live with the parental. Maybe if dad was single by then I could infringe on his bachelor status to annoy him. The idea held some appeal.

In the spirit of efficiency I reached my conclusions as I pulled into the lot. I threw the jeep into park and bounded out, prepared to go in, check that nothing was stolen or greatly amiss, thieve the cute leather jacket, and be on my merry way to tell Batman all about my awful day slaving in factorial Rose Red, facing the Fire Ellen-mental, and the possibility that I might once again enjoy the happiness of two single parents. Until my mother handfasted to Derek.

Yuck, save that last thought for tomorrow. I was in a happy place, damn it. Enough thinking for one day. I grinned at Mrs. Bestler as the elevator doors opened.

"Oh, hello, dear!" she exclaimed. "I haven't seen you here in awhile. You finally move in with that delicious bounty hunter?"

I laughed. "Actually he moved me in with him. Guess he was tired of waiting."

Mrs. Bestler fanned herself as the elevator rose to the second floor. "My, my. That man could move me anywhere he wanted."

I nodded in acknowledgement. Ranger could certainly move in mysterious ways. I said goodbye and hurried down the hall, resisting the urge to fan myself. I turned the key in the lock and slipped into the apartment, wrinkling my nose at the musty unlived-in smell.

The jacket was in the bedroom, I remembered and I made it to the hall before it struck me that something was seriously amiss. I turned back to the kitchen, my eyes drawn inexorably to the object sitting on the table.

A vase of red roses and white carnations sat there, placidly glistening and conjuring up the romantic notions inherent to their species. The romantic notions however took a backseat to the overall creepiness emanating from the small white card leaning against the vase. I took an instant, instinctive dislike to that card. I knew what that card was about. I knew what it said. I had read all about it in another life.

I stepped closer eying it as I would another of the gigantic mutant jumping spiders Abruzzi had set on me. Sure enough there was a message printed on the outside of the envelope: 'Tag. You're it.' And inside there would, of course, be snuff photos of some poor lady with her head blown off or her eyes gouged out or whatever sick sadistic shocking thing Janet's twisted little head had devised.

Third world countries were too good for Janet. Should I ever meet her she was headed straight for rural Kentucky.

I bit my lip and continued to stare at the flowers, half expecting them to move, maybe even sing a song, demand some humans be fed to them…

Using two fingers, and staying arms length from the evil flowers, I picked up the envelope. I used one finger to nudge the flap up and dumped the photos out on the counter. A quick glance and I turned away. The sheer amount of crimson and gray flesh tones told me all I wanted to know.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket and flipped it open, hitting speed dial. It rang twice before it was picked up.

"Talk_."__ Nice to see you too, sweetheart. How was your day? Sorry to hear that… _

"Remember what I said about getting stalked and murdered? Well, I'm calling to say I told you so." There was several beats of silence.

"What?"

"I dropped by my apartment and I found a vase of red roses and white carnations with a nice friendly 'Tag, you're it' message and an envelope filled with up close and personal photos of people who died in extremely bloody violent ways."

"I'll be there in ten. Don't touch anything," the voice had gone from terse to all-out grim. Central America was quivering with fear and dialing its psychiatrist. And he disconnected.

I glared at the phone as I snapped it shut. I hated that. I hated, hated, hated that. Ranger was so getting a lecture on phone manners. I flipped the phone back open and checked the date. Damn, it was June, so probably any charm schools in the area had already started classes. Rats. Well, not like he would go anyway. I sighed, shutting the phone and heading out the door to wait for the cavalry.


	9. Chapter 9

Navigating Nine Chapter 09

Disclaimer: The characters are Janet's. The plot is too, mostly. Except for the parts that aren't.

Note: Thank you guys for the reviews and emails. You're awesome.

**00000000000000000000000000000**

I was sitting against the wall next to the door when Ranger and Tank came up the stairs. I smiled as the door opened and Tank's massive form stepped through, followed by Ranger's somewhat lighter frame. It never ceased to amaze me how much Tank could dwarf anything. Ranger was a big guy, they all were, way bigger than Rangers normally were. It always made the back of my mind wonder if they weren't fibbing about which part of the military they started in.

"Babe," Ranger said, stepping around Tank as I stood up from my position on the floor. "Are you okay?"

I nodded. "Peachy keen. Someone else isn't, though, judging from those pics."

"You called the cops yet?" Tank asked. I frowned.

"Should I have? I thought you might want first look at it, since it came after I spent time at Troll Bro."

The name change got me a slight eyebrow lift from Ranger and the hint of a smile from Tank. "Good thinking," the big guy said.

"You can go inside," Ranger's voice was carefully neutral.

"That's okay," I said with just a little too much perkiness. "Y'all go ahead. I have some calls to make out here or some junk."

They both gave me a funny look, but let it go and disappeared inside. I settled back down to the floor to play Snake on my cell phone. However I did move across the hallway so I could sort of catch an occasional glimpse of what was happening through the partially open door. I saw them exchange an ESP look over the flowers and the mess of photos on the counter, then I decided to give my attention back to the game at hand.

The sound of a throat being discreetly cleared brought me out of my LCD hypnosis. I blinked up at Ranger as my brain resumed normal function, coming slowly out of its pixel-induced coma. Looking at him wasn't the brightest idea, since it sent me spinning from one distracted state of mind to another. He was in the requisite black SWAT-inspired gear, including the painted on t-shirt that I had an inescapable urge to slide my hands under. Just to see if they'd fit, you understand…

"Que?" I asked.

He looked at me for a moment, then offered me his hand. I let myself be hauled up before I launched into the speech that had been itching in the back of my throat since he and Tank had arrived. I rocked back on my feet and looked up at him, letting all my irritation and frustration show on my face.

"I told you I didn't want to go to TriBro. I knew something like this would happen, Ranger. Something like this always happens," I said tightly. "I'm so sick of being stalker bait! I can't do this again! It's been six weeks, six freaking weeks!" my voice was strained as I fought the hysteria rising up from deep inside. A note of fear crept in as I realized I wasn't acting that part- it was real. Ranger just looked blank.

"I can't handle this," I whispered, my eyes locking with his as my voice broke and the tears started spilling out of my eyes. "Not so soon. It's going too fast…"

I did the only thing I could think of to stop myself from turning around, running to the stairwell and throwing myself over the banister. I threw myself on Ranger instead, ignoring the wonky feeling of hugging Kevlar and assorted weaponry.

"Don't cry, Babe." His voice was barely above a whisper as his arms closed around me.

"I'm not crying," I sniffled against his shoulder. "I got something in my eye. Maybe it's allergies."

His lips touched my temple. "Didn't know you had allergies."

"Oh yeah, awful. Hay fever and everything," I said, regaining some of my composure as the fact of his presence seemed to calm me. It was hard to stay panicked when Batman was on the scene.

"Daddy wants a divorce," I said conversationally as Tank walked out of the apartment, closing the door behind him. "Ellen hates me and she's mad about the Abruzzi thing and he's probably going to divorce her."

"He tell you that?" Ranger asked, letting me step away and looking down at me. I shrugged and glanced at Tank.

"Hey, Tank."

"Moonbeam," he said with a smirk. I wrinkled my nose at him.

"Just because you're bigger than me doesn't mean you can bully me." I gave him a haughty look and turned my attention back to Ranger. "He didn't actually say it in so many words, but he had that look. And his voice was off, too."

"You going to be okay?" Tank asked, surprising me.

"About the stalker or the divorce? The divorce is okay, I think. The stalker though, I'm not okay about the stalker. Let's not talk about the stalker. I need Valium before we do that."

"We need to call the police," Ranger said. I stared at him.

"What for?"

"The photos."

"Oh, yeah. The photos…" I sighed and looked down at my cell phone. I stuck out my bottom lip and gave in to my inner child. "I don't wanna."

"Cute," Tank rumbled.

"Babe," Ranger sighed.

"Calling," I said, still sulking. _It was Clyde Cone. Tell them it was Clyde Cone…_ I paused, looking at Ranger and Tank as the phone dialed the police number. They wouldn't believe me, I realized. Not really. They'd want proof. I needed to prove Clyde was the mastermind… Telling them wasn't going to do any good. But at least they would—I opened my mouth to say something, and the dispatcher picked up.

"Trenton Police Department—"

By the time the cops finally got there, got the evidence, got the statements, and left the day was pretty much over with. Unfortunately, as soon as the last uniform disappeared, the Cuban Inquisition hit, plus it had its evil henchman Scippio Afrikanus with it.

"You left TriBro at noon?" Ranger asked.

"I got everything you wanted," I said defensively. "Plus I got kicked out by Bart. What did you want me to do? Throw him through a window?"

"You didn't check in when you left," Tank put in. I stared at him.

"What does it matter where I'm at? You guys don't check in with me," I pointed out.

"We aren't the ones who attract psychos."

"Sure you do, it's just that yours are ex girlfriends and you made them that way."

Tank's eyes narrowed, but I had him. His ex girlfriend Shaniqua was seriously obsessed. I didn't get women like that. Sure Tank was Tank but stalking him didn't seem like a bright idea to win him back. It sounded more like a bright idea to win yourself a one-way ticket to Yemen.

"You need to let someone know of your whereabouts." Ranger's expression was stony.

"Mean you don't have a GPS thingy on my Jeep?"

"It's not one of ours," he said simply. Well, that was a relief. Too bad I didn't believe it was that simple.

"You had one on the CR-V." Ranger did his silent commando look. "See, I knew you did." Well, it had either been in the CR-V or the ugly Coach purse or the old cell phone. The CR-V had gotten blown up by Dumdum the Teletubby of Doom and the other two items had been upgraded in the last couple weeks.

"Babe."

"Don't babe me, Higgins."

"Christ," Tank muttered. "If you two get any cuter I'm gonna have to shoot one of you." I laughed and patted his arm reassuringly, but before I could make a come back my cell phone went off.

I stepped away from the boys, leaving them to confer about whatever it was they conferred about as I answered. "Val?"

"Stephanie, what happened this afternoon? Grandma called me and said that Mom's ironing everything in sight and she's been hitting the whiskey."

"Grandma or Ellen?"

"Mom, not Grandma, sorry. What's going on?"

I took a deep breath, sorting out which details to give and what to withhold. "Ellen's just really, really pissed off at me over Abruzzi's guys kidnapping you and—"

"But you saved me, too!"

"Thanks Val. Anyway, she's mad and she's mad about you moving in with Jack and she's blaming it on me."

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh. She went off on me at noon and Dad walked in and heard her. He didn't handle it well. I guess they haven't been on speaking terms lately anyway."

"Shit." Val said the word almost reverently as she must have started seeing the beginnings of the unpleasant larger picture.

"Pretty much. They had one hell of a fight. So it figures that she'd be trying to iron the house. Maybe you should take Grandma out. I'd be worried she might get ironed too."

"Steph, thanks. I'm sorry, I don't know why she's blaming you for Jack and I—" Val sighed. "I'm going to go talk to her now. Want to meet up for lunch tomorrow?"

"Sounds good to me. Dragonfly Café at noon?"

"It's a date. Bye!"

"Bye, Val." And we disconnected. See, an amicable, perfectly easy farewell. I looked at Ranger to see if he'd happened to hear or catch on to this novel concept, but he and Tank had their heads together, discussing gods knew what. So much for that idea.

They turned as I stepped back into conversation range. "Hey guys, I'm going to head for the manor, do you want me to snag some edibles on the way?" It was as close as I ever came to offering to cook.

"No, we have a redecorating appointment," Tank shrugged.

I smiled. Oh, yippee, that meant I got the manor all to my lonesome until sometime after midnight. No thanks. "Well, in that case, I think I'll head to mom's," I said, stepping in to give Ranger a quick hug. "Try not to get shot, you two."

Tank grinned. "Where's the fun in that?"

"You are one weird puppy, Tank."

Mom's house was modern, designer, and at least partially solar-powered. She was a big believer in solar power both for utility and spirituality. Solar power, girl power, crystal power. That kind of summed her up.

I had to wonder what would happen when word leaked that Rhianna Ravenstar, high priestess, guru, spiritualist, and whatever else she was this week, was handfasting to a staid, suited accountant. He was Methodist. He was from Massachusetts. He went to Dartmouth. He was a successful accountant in an accounting firm.

Not that the New Age crowd is close-minded, but full members of the "establishment" aren't exactly always welcomed, unless of course they've had a spiritual awakening. Derek didn't look spiritually awakened to me. In fact, other than he had a decent body, all his hair, and very pretty blue eyes, I didn't actually see why Mom was so into him.

Maybe it was menopause. Her hormones were overruling her common sense.

I made sure Mom's car was in the garage and Derek's was gone, but I still rang the door bell before I went in. I didn't mind seeing my mom naked, but in case Derek had taken to doing rituals sky clad too, I didn't want to see that.

I heard movement and the door was opened, revealing my mother dressed in a flowing white robe, her hair loose and held in place only by a gleaming silver circlet. She was carrying a bowl of something that was billowing smoke and it took a moment for the pungent odor of burning sage to overwhelm me.

"Moonbeam," she said smiling. "Come in sweetheart, you're just in time to help with the cleaning. Go upstairs and get changed."

I sighed and resigned myself to my fate, dutifully trudging up the stairs to change. "I have your old set of robes laid out in your room!" Mom called after me.

I wandered into the room which had only been designated mine after mom visited the apartment, and sure enough there was a flowing white dress lying on the bed for me. Not for the first time I wondered what it might have been like to have a mom who said the word cleaning and meant "washing the dishes" or "vacuuming."

The next hour or so was spent walking three times around each room downstairs, carefully laying out crystals in any area that was too neglected to catch any lingering negative energies. Mom insisted negative energy collected in the corners of a room like dust bunnies. For the most part I just followed her around and concentrated on the visualization of harmonious, peaceful atmospheres.

When it was finished, we changed out of the ritual clothes, tucking them back in their reserved drawers, and collapsed in the kitchen over raspberry lemonade and salads while mom put some veggie burgers in the stove to cook. Derek was at a meeting in NYC and wouldn't be back for a couple days, so it was just the two of us.

"How did you know I was coming?" I asked finally.

"I didn't," Mom shrugged. "But I knew you'd be needing to talk to me about some sort of relationship troubles. Actually a lot of them. I read my Tarot cards last night."

"Maybe you should read mine." I picked an almond out of my salad and examined it. "Dad's getting a divorce."

Mom let out a derisive snort, as she tended to do when my father was brought up. "It's a miracle it lasted this long. Your father isn't exactly a wonderful husband, and that woman… I always wondered if he was drunk when they got married…"

"Mom!" I protested weakly. "Ellen's awful, but she's not coyote."

"That wasn't what I meant."

"Oh. Well… I don't know why he married her. He says he loves her, just not the way… " I frowned, trying to remember his exact words. "Just not some way or other. I guess not the work through it way."

Mom smirked. "Well, that would follow, considering this is Frank we're talking about."

"Mom."

"Well, I'm not going to lie to you, sweetie. Your father is a self-centered, egocentric, charming bastard." She said it as coolly as other people would say there was a breeze. It was not a judgment, simply it was the way he was.

"He said he was sorry for not being there when I was younger," I offered.

"You just want another Jeep if that one gets blown up," Mom retorted, her green eyes piercing mine, seeing through me as if I was a book she'd already read.

I considered arguing but disregarded the impulse as useless. "He's trying." Her lips thinned, but she didn't respond. Mom was not the kind to forgive the past.

"Are you spending the night?" she asked instead.

I took a bite of my salad and thought about it. I didn't like being in the manor by myself- it felt too cold without the guys around. "If you don't mind."

"Sweetheart, you are always welcome here. You know that." Mom smiled, her green eyes showing a rare spark of conventional maternal warmth. "We should go see a movie together. We haven't done that in years."

It was after midnight when my cell phone woke me up from a sound sleep. I rolled to the edge of the bed and flopped my hand around on the nightstand until I found the thing.

"'Sup?" I asked around a yawn.

"Babe, where are you?"

"Hey, Ranger," I said, snuggling back under the duvet. "How was the redecorating job? Tank throw anyone through a window?"

"No, no windows broke tonight. Where are you?"

"Mom's. We went and saw a movie. Colin Farrell was in it. I love his voice."

"Didn't mean to wake you," he said after a moment of silence.

"Yeah, it's okay." I yawned again. "I just didn't want to go back to the manor. It's too big and echo-y when you guys aren't there. And I didn't want the stalker following me anyway," I added because it sounded good.

"You still haven't said if you found anything at TriBro."

I smiled in the dark. Here was the opportune moment… "Oh, tons of stuff. Singh was calling around looking for a Howie who worked at a McDonalds. Singh got sent to Vegas a few times. I think we need to find the McDonalds Howie. Then maybe if that doesn't work, see if he made in contacts in Vegas he could run away to."

"Good work, Babe."

I opened my mouth do add the information about Clyde and realized the phone had disconnected. I stared at the screen in wonder for a moment. Foiled again. I resisted the urge to hurl the piece of plastic at the wall, and instead I maturely dropped it onto the floor and flipped onto my stomach to get back to dreaming about Indiana Jones.

The next time I woke up I realized there was someone in the room with me. A large hand covered my mouth, effectively silencing the scream of fright as a heavy weight settled onto the bed. I could smell sweat, burned wood, and underlying it all the faint coppery scent of blood.

My sleep-fogged brain desperately tried to sort out whether or not I was dreaming. My nightmares the last six weeks had been horrifyingly real in their sensory details… I could feel my heart hammering against my ribcage, feel my throat closing up with fear. My worst nightmares had always been the ones where I couldn't scream…

The man's hand dropped away from my hand and I tried to scream, tried to get up and run but I couldn't. The covers were too heavy, they held me to the bed like a steel net. I was frozen, unable to scream as his calloused hand slid over my shoulder and caressed my throat. He traced the line of my collar bone right, then left, and then the hand was back at my throat, this time more firmly as he began to squeeze.

"Web Masters know what tangled webs we weave," he said in a raw, painfully hoarse voice that cracked on each syllable. "A handful of moonbeams and six rhymes, all it takes to come undone…"

"No," I whispered, trying to move my head out of his grasp as black stars began dancing at edge of my vision.

"Undone. Don't you want your web undone?"

"No…" _No, let go, someone stop this… _

"You'd prefer a stairway, then…"

My eyes flew open to stare up at my attacker, but he was gone. My throat felt sore as though I'd been sleeping with my mouth open or something. The covers were their normal weight… I was almost relaxed when the hair on the back of my neck stood up, sending a chill down my spine. Someone was in the room with me…

The panic almost froze me again, but I forced myself to look at the doorway. There, silhouetted against the dim nightlights in the hall was a tall, muscular form I could thankfully recognize.

"Ranger, what are you doing here?" I asked, my voice husky. I rubbed my throat as I waited for his reply.

He didn't say anything, simply straightened and stepped into the room. I had a bare moment of warning that I was still too slow to take before the covers were thrown off and I was being yanked out of bed and unceremoniously dumped on my feet.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he hissed as his hands bit into my arms. I blinked, trying to figure out what was going on. Was this another nightmare?

"Sleeping?" I tried.

"Don't, Stephanie. Moonbeam. Whatever the hell your name is."

"Ranger? What's wrong?" I frowned, shaking my head, trying to add things together and not coming up with the right answers. Maybe this wasn't who I thought it was.

"You know what's going on. You run out on me, go home to your mother… Dios¿Qué pensabas?"

My eyes were stinging with tears. This wasn't a dream or it would have been over by now. "You were on a job, Ranger!" I said, trying to get mad. Anger would mean I didn't feel stung and hurt and scared…

"What was I supposed to do? Go home to the empty manor and think about pictures of dead bodies? I wanted my mom, so sue me. I'm not tough, I never said I was."

Some of the tension started to drain out of him, but the anger was already building inside of me. "Babe, I—"

"Oh, shut up!" I hissed. "You wanted me to be mad at you and staying here to spite you or to whine to mommy or to prove I was a silly little girl. What, is it what your ex-wife did? Well, screw her, and screw you. Get the hell away from me, I need to go see my mommy. Congratulations, you got what you came for."

I shrugged my shoulders, trying to dislodge his hands, but they weren't moving. "Ranger, let go. Ranger, Ric, Carlos, whatever the hell your name is," I hurled his phrase back at him.

"Christ…"

"I don't want to hear it. I've heard enough. Stop talking and let me go…"

"No," he said, his voice low and determined.

I swallowed hard, suddenly worried. "No?"

"I'm sorry. I panicked. I thought you decided you wanted to leave…"

Was this one of those Men are from Mars moments? I decided it definitely had to be when he pulled me closer and enveloped me in a tight hug.

The downside of dating a guy built like Ranger was that when he wanted you moved, you just got moved. I had discovered this over the weeks of living with several of them. If I was in the way I was just sort of picked up and placed in a less inconvenient spot. I considered my usual retaliation of a swift kick to the shin, but I was pretty sure he wouldn't even notice since I wasn't wearing shoes.

I submitted to the hug and mentally tried to calculate how big a box was needed to ship a Ranger to Namibia. They probably had monkeys there. He'd feel right at home.

"Please, come home," he said his breath sliding over my neck and sending a wake-up call to my hormones.

"Later. Maybe. If you swear never to do anything this stupid again, and that I can spend the night with my mom if I want without you doing something this stupid, and that you are smarter than to think something that stupid again."

"How about if I admit I'm just an idiot and I'll try not to show it too much?"

I fought back a smile, and narrowed my eyes. "I'm not going to move out of the manor without talking to you about it," I said, pushing on his chest until he gave me room to look up at him.

"I am going to complain to mom when you do something stupid. I am not going to spend the night somewhere else just because you piss me off. I might make you spend the night on a couch if you piss me off. Are those acceptable terms?"

The corners of his lips turned upwards. "I agree to the terms."

"Good. Do we need to wake your lawyer up to have him go over it?"

"I think I can handle going over it on my own. It might take a few tries though… all night even…" his hands moved to my waist, and lower, sliding over my hips to pull them against him. His teeth gleamed as he smiled, reminding me of the Big Bad Wolf. "I think it's time I took you home."

"Please tell me that wasn't a baseball reference."


	10. Chapter 10

Navigating Nine Chapter 10

Disclaimer: Hey, guess what? Janet still owns Stephanie Plum World, even if we wish she would hand it over to someone who would end it the way we Babes would like.

Note: Thanks for all the support and kindness. Thank you to everyone who has given me all that lovely feedback! Feedback rocks socks.

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I shook my head with a heavy sigh. "I'm sorry Ranger, I can't." He frowned but apparently decided to wait me out. "Don't you see? If I go home with you now, tonight, it's establishing an unhealthy precedent. If we have a relationship… Do we have one? Well, not a normal one but ours, I think, and it fits us and it's okay, seriously, but I can't just roll over and play puppy." I stepped away, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Babe?"

"Don't. You know I'm right."

He looked as if he couldn't decide whether to kiss me or throttle me. "We just talked it out. I jumped to conclusions, we're fine. But if you feel more comfortable staying here tonight…" he let the sentence drop, the words trailing off into the meditative silence unique to 3 am.

"It's not that. I don't want us falling into… into… into an unhealthy pattern."

He was quiet for a few beats. "Who are you?" he said at last. I winced as if he'd just slapped me, feeling my stomach drop to somewhere around my knees.

"What?" The word was almost a squeak. I could feel his eyes assessing me even in the near darkness.

"Not so long ago, you'd have rather jumped out a window than sleep with me. You were half scared of me, and you would do anything short of homicide to escape talking about relationships or feelings."

It was my turn to be silent. There were some things about me that really didn't bear questioning.

"What changed?" he asked.

"You know what changed. Near death experiences followed by further near death experiences change people."

Now Ranger's arms crossed over his chest and he rocked back on his heels. All welcome the High Inquisitor. I bit my lip and tried to sort my thoughts out into a clear, relatively-sane, heavily edited version of events.

"Give me a break," I said defensively. "I fell down a flight of stairs, got stalked by a killer cartoon, kidnapped by Napoleon incarnate who I ended up shooting.. in fact I killed like three people in one night which may or may not qualify me as a mass murderer even if I didn't actually kill one of them, and I got beat to hell in the process. Now I barely get over that, and here I am getting letters and snuff photos from an all-new wacky weirdo of the week."

My voice was getting progressively higher and shakier. "And in the middle of it all I realized maybe that you aren't the big bad wolf or if you are I still would rather trust you than them and maybe that's because I love you and you—I don't know if you— " I choked myself off, trying to keep the words from spilling out. _Too little, too late._

"Don't know if I what?" Ranger questioned. I clamped my jaw shut. "Say it." _Uh-uh. Nothing doing. _"Please." _Oh damn it to hell…_

"I don't know if you love me or love who I was." The words came in a rush, strung together into a single gobbledygook that would have made any speed-talking teenager proud.

"Who you were?"

"Who you thought I was… see, this is proving me right! You don't love me, you love Stephanie. You love Ellen's Burg-loving stepdaughter. You love that chick who was terrified of feelings and affection and wanted Morelli just because he was comfortable. Well, guess what, she's not here. I'm sorry. Wrong number. I'm going to bed."

I turned on my heel and started to climb back into the tangled covers, but was stopped as Ranger's hand settled on my shoulder and spun me around. A further disadvantage of living with people who subdue other people for a living.

"What are you doing?"

"Going to bed," I sniffed, trying my best snotty little brat voice.

"Don't I get a say in this?" I could almost hear his brow raising.

"No," I said, my voice trembling. "Because if you tell me I'm right I'm going to be crying for a week. I don't want to cry for a week. I have a stalker to deal with."

"What if I'm going to tell you you're wrong?"

"Well, see, if I'm wrong, then you're pissed at me for saying it in the first place and you're going to go storming off."

"I don't storm off."

"Okay, you're going to go all disappearing into the wind stealthy-ish in a bad mood."

"Babe, you're wrong."

"About what?"

The hand on my shoulder momentarily tightened, and I was reminded of the fact he could probably snap me like a twig. "You dive me crazy."

I bit my lip to hold back the smart ass retort that sprang to mind. I really didn't want to explore my inner twig tonight. His grip finally loosened, and his hands slid up my shoulders to cradle my neck, tilting my head up to look at him. The dim light from the hallway filtered through the door, highlighting his cheeks and hair, but leaving most of his face in shadows. Still, I could feel his eyes boring into mine.

"Listen to me very carefully. I love you. Whatever name you want to use, it's you Babe. You stand up to me, make me laugh, drive me crazy, and now that I finally got you, I'm not letting you go."

"What about—" My question was silenced as he bent down and kissed me, his lips brushing mine almost reverently. _What about the fact I'm possibly a crazy split personality or an alien from an alternate dimension? _

"No questions," he whispered. Maybe I should have argued, but at that moment I couldn't see the point of anything that didn't end with us both naked and exploring interesting positions.

"I love you too, Ranger. I'm sorry," I said, sliding my arms around his waist and returning his kiss. _So sorry, for being someone else entirely, for everything… for all the stuff you'll never know…_

"Well, and I was worried you were talking to yourself, sweetheart," Mom's voice was full of barely repressed laughter.

I dropped my arms and if Ranger hadn't had me all but pinned against him with the small tree-trunks he called arms I probably would have jumped six feet backward.

"Good evening, Ranger."

"Rhianna," he returned the greeting with a barely perceptible nod of his head.

"I wondered when you'd get here," she said, leaning against the doorjamb.

"Had a job that ran late."

"Mm," Mom pursed her lips thoughtfully. "You are a pro-active businessman, I take it."

"Paperwork isn't my thing," he shrugged, keeping me right where I was. I had the uncomfortable sensation that the adults were having a conversation I couldn't follow.

"Would you like some tea?" Mom asked.

"Sounds wonderful."

I swallowed hard and let him guide me out the door after mom. Maybe I was still dreaming. There was definitely something surreal about this…

"Mom, how did you know—"

"That he'd be by tonight? Moonbeam, honestly, you stay the night with your mother, don't call him and you thought I wouldn't notice? I figured you had a fight or you had something you weren't happy about."

"Oh."

"Don't worry, dear. You'll get used to living with someone. It's always hard the first time around. And I hardly count that thirty-second engagement of yours as a full experience."

I shrugged as she gave me a scathing glance and I felt Ranger's eyes on me. I wondered if he knew about that or not. "Seemed like a good idea at the time," I said evenly. It was why mom always said she married dad.

Mom's green eyes narrowed, but her lips turned up in a tiny smile. "Indeed."

We sat down around the kitchen table and mom set about pouring us each a mug of tea. "So, you'll be taking her with you, correct?" she asked Ranger as she handed him one of the glasses.

He nodded, watching her cautiously.

"Good. I'm glad I caught you then, we have some things to discuss." _Oh gods, here it comes_. Rangeman had probably run afoul of Green Peace or something…

"Ma'am?" _Oh, smart boy, Ranger. Lay it on thick…_

Mom took a sip of her tea and eyed us both over the rim of the mug. "Relax, children. It's not asif I'm going to lecture you on sex." I relaxed a little. I didn't think I was up to taking sex tips from mom at this time of night.

"Actually, I've had an idea for a new book… "

"No!" I said, straightening in my seat to glare at her. "No book."

"Oh, come on sweetheart, it would be a best seller."

"No, mom. You are not basing a book off of me, or off Ranger or anyone else."

"Too late darling. I've already got the green light." Mom's eyes sparked with triumph. I slumped.

"Ranger, tell her no one wants to read about bounty hunters."

"Actually, babe, it doesn't sound like a bad idea. I always said your life should be a prime time sitcom."

My eyes widened as I stared first at Ranger whose dark eyes were warm and amused, to mom who was doing a creditable impersonation of a canary-filled feline.

"Thank you Ranger. I was hoping you'd be available sometime this weekend so I could ask you some questions about the bail bonds and procedures. Maybe over dinner, we could do it when Derek gets back. Welcome home and welcome a new muse all in one!"

Ranger inclined his head in assent. I stuck out my lower lip.

It was three o'clock in the morning and my mother and significant other were conspiring to ruin my life. I didn't like chamomile tea. My feet were cold. I probably had bed head and red-rimmed eyes. This sucked.

Oh, and that wasn't even going into the fact that I was going to have to unmask the Geek Master or risk getting beaten up by Fish Kitty or whatever that dumb named kid was. Plus I was going to have to get to Las Vegas and locate a nerdy run-away immigrant, during all of this I'd be running the risk of ending up trapped in Rose Red playing Run Rabbit Run…

I crossed my arms and let myself sulk, ignoring my mother's evil eye.


	11. Chapter 11

Navigating Nine Chapter 11

Note: So, at long last, here it is. A brand spanking new chapter. Are you not entertained? Sorry, couldn't resist.

Disclaimer: Look, we've been over this. It's mostly Janet's. Sort of. Except for the parts that aren't exactly.

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I woke up the next morning to someone's hand tracing my cheek and the scent of Bulgari shower gel. I was smiling before I even opened my eyes to look up at Ranger. His hair was tied back, and he was already dressed to take over the world.

"Good morning," he said with a smile.

"How can you already be up?" I said, fighting back a yawn. His smile widened and he shook his head.

"Practice, Eliza."

I scrunched my nose and stuck out my tongue. He chuckled. "Cute." His eyes grew serious and the smile disappeared as he smoothed my hair out of my eyes. "Be careful today. Call Tank or Les if you run into any problems."

"No worries, Higgs." I caught his hand with mine, and pressed a quick kiss to his palm. "I'll just be tracking McDonalds Howie. You try not to get shot, okay?"

"Babe," he sighed, the ghost smile returning to his features. "Get some sleep."

"Mmkay." I smiled at him one last time before burrowing back under the covers. I still had lots to think about from the night before, but it would wait. Maybe if I pretended it didn't happen no one would notice mom's bounty hunter book.

The next time I woke up to the infectious sounds of Accidentally in Love and I found myself almost bouncing out of the bed as my head reacted to the cheerful rhythms. Damn those dastardly djs and their morning morale-boosters.

I was smiling against my will and singing along with the song astoundingly off-key by the time I'd crossed the room. I was still singing it when I got out of the shower and tackled my hair.

I was dressed before it occurred to me to wonder whether I had a car. Then again, this was the Manor. Well, if it was there I'd take it, if not I could bug Les and Tank. Ranger had said to call them if I had any problems, after all. Lack of transportation definitely qualified as a problem.

I pulled on one of the pairs of jeans I'd picked up with Valerie, which were the only ones that weren't falling off me. A few other assorted clothing pieces had appeared in my closet that fit, but the jeans of mysterious origins were all unfamiliar brands and looked suspiciously expensive. I needed to talk to Ranger about them, because although I was thrilled, I didn't wear expensive jeans. If expensive was needed, spend it on shoes, jewelry and sexy dresses. Or just give me the cash and let me loose in Gadzooks. On second thought, screw the invisible house elf shopper, give me the plastic and the store. And a Merry Man to carry the bags. Maybe two.

Smiling happily at the thought of a Shopping Spree of Doom I headed downstairs to investigate my car situation. By some miracle I found my Jeep sitting out front of the houses, dazzling in its blinding new whiteness. One of the guys must have brought it. They said they'd never let it in the garage, afraid of ruining the look of all those black vehicles probably. Company cars my foot- they just liked being in bad ass black.

My next car was going to be hot, glaring, fuchsia pink. Maybe trimmed in purple, with pimp-style gold rims. Park that in the driveway here and see what happened. I was pretty sure it would mysteriously disappear, or get an overnight paint job, but I was curious just to know.

I drove to the office, managing to only get lost one time. I had to stop and get directions back to the right path at a 7-11. Talk about your déjà vu. First on today's game plan was to check for new skips, then go work out with Mac, and call around looking for McHowie. Finding him, I would then seek him out, badger him with some scary Merry Man at my back because I remembered Howie lived by a crack ho, and hopefully avoid getting Howie shot. Maybe I could convince him to leave the game or something.

I doubted it, but it was worth a shot, especially since I didn't understand the game. I kind of thought everyone but the Web Master and the winner died, but that was idiocy. First of all, Clyde didn't strike me as being social enough to make that many friends in the area, even online. Second of all, even if he did he had to meet them all somewhere. A common point of origin, probably role play chats, but that was an issue because Fishy Kitty wasn't like any Dungeons and Dragons player I ever knew.

Maybe Marvel RPGs?

I pulled into the bonds office and turned off the car, but remained inside, following the train of thought. I had had tons of friends who did RP chats. Problem was they had all done the classic high fantasy stuff. What Fish Feline talked about was like some cracked out Vampire the Masquerade powers-transcending-reality crap, but it didn't fit with the other players.

How do you advertise a kill game, anyway? Who are your players? It just didn't add up, Janet. You really needed to draw this plot up a little more carefully. One is a kid with delusions of Totem Animals, one is a displaced computer geek who wants out, and the game master is a manic little troll bro with a serious inferiority complex. But Clyde liked super heroes, and Fish Feline identified himself with an animal sort of Wolverine style… Singh liked all things Americana…

But that still left the whole internet full of English language chat rooms about the glories of super heroes, whether role played or simply discussed religiously. Never mind. I was just going to have to do this the snail mail way. I was going to have to see if Howie would talk, then I was going to have to go to Vegas, hope I beat Tuna Cat, and somehow get some kind of proof against Troll C. Yeah, nothing to it.

I took a deep breath, centering myself mentally and surrounding myself with calming energy. I was going to need it to face the weasel.

As it turned out, I needed the calming energy just to deal with Lula. She was in a fit of diet euphoria. You know, that brief period at the start of a new diet when all the world, including size zeroes seem just within reach.

"This one's different," she was explaining to Connie with all the proselytizing zeal of the born again and newly inducted Weight Watchers. "This one is realistic."

I debated taking part in the discussion of the wonders of Fat Busters, but opted out. Lula was Lula and Fat Busters was no match for that. Billy Blanks might not even be a match for that. Instead I waited until Lula paused for breath, distracted by mournful thoughts of veggies without cheese sauce.

"Good luck, Lula," I said, smiling. "It won't be so bad once you get past the bacon cravings." I turned to Connie. "Got any new skips for me?"

"Yeah," Connie nodded, holding up a large pile of paper. "But he don't want anybody working on anything but Singh."

I sighed. "Oh well. I have to go look for some Howie guy, he and Singh might have been friends…I don't guess you could find him for me? All I have is that his name is Howie and he works at McDonalds."

Connie rolled her eyes. "Please, that's not even going to be a challenge… and I bet he isn't even hot."

I thought about this, trying to remember descriptions of Howie. "Probably not. No one hot ever works at McDonald's. It's hard to be hot and work around all that grease."

"Amen," Lula said, her eyes glazing over a little at the thought of grease and transfat. "Hey, maybe I should help."

"Like I said, he works at Mickey D's. You'd be putting your diet in jeopardy. I wouldn't ask you to do that."

Lula waved an arm, and I worried for a moment her lime green spandex top would explode. "No problemo there. I'm a changed woman."

I shook my head, and resisted thunking it into the wall. I was not going to win, and I knew it. "Anything yet Connie?"

Connie grinned and pointed at the printer as it began spitting out papers.

Lula let out a whoop. "Damn, you're quick, Con. Let me get my purse."

Fifteen minutes later, Lula and I pulled into the parking lot of a McDonald's. Lula was muttering something about McNuggets and her eyes had taken on an unsettling gleam as she looked at the building. I just turned the key off and sat back, my own gaze settling on the door.

If I could just get Howie to talk, I wouldn't need proof. But that was a tough thing to do. Did he know I was the prize or whatever it was? Did he know Singh? Damn it, why hadn't I paid more attention to the book?

I didn't even remember Howie's internet handle. I sighed as I realized I wasn't even sure when he died. I was pretty sure he did die… but when? Heck, I didn't even remember where in Vegas to find Singh. Triple damn

"What's up?" Lula asked, breaking into my pity party.

I looked over at her. "I've got a bad feeling."

"Probably just low blood sugar. We ought to get in there and get your skinny white butt some food."

I shook my head, and thought back. I'd eaten already today. I was pretty sure. Oh well, time enough to eat later. When I might not be about to die. "I'm good. But… let's go check out his apartment first."

"You think he might be in on Singh's disappearance? You got a hunch?" Lula asked.

"Yeah, you could say that." I bit my lip, then threw judgment out the window and added, "he and Clyde Cone both."

"Clyde Cone? He related to the—"

"The factory. He's Andrew and Bart's little brother."

"How would he know Howie?"

"Internet," I said readily. "Clyde's an internet addict. So is Singh. I bet Howie is too… maybe. It's a small Net after all." Riight. And I was queen of Romania.

"Hmph," Lula said.

"Let's go look for Howie's computer. We can come back and question him later. And get some lunch too. They have that new healthy menu."

Lula's scowl intensified. I could see the changed Lula façade breaking up in front of the idea of a BigMac. Trying to hide my smile, I put the Jeep and gear and headed for Howie's building.

A few minutes later, I parked along the curb outside the address listed as Howie's. Looking up at the building, all I could think of was one word: Eurgh. Well, that and creepy, but creepy was a distant second. Once upon a time, this had been an okay neighborhood, but it was heading down the express lane to ghettoland, if it wasn't there already. The house Howie was in had been a two-story single family place in the olden days, and had been converted into seven apartments. The paint was peeling, the window ledges were rotting, it was postcard perfect, if your postcard read 'Wish you were here. Misery loves company.'

Howie lived in apartment 3B. Unfortunately, 3B was locked, and I still hadn't convinced Ranger or a Merry Men to teach me how to pick a lock.

"Huh," Lula said, "Too bad you always get so upset about me knocking down doors. This door looks so flimsy, I bet I could lean against it and it'd fall down."

I looked at Lula and back at the door. She was probably right. Lula wasn't a feather weight. But I didn't want to deal with cops. Okay, nix the 's'. I didn't want to deal with cop. Specifically Joe Morelli.

"Let's go outside, see if there's a back entrance. If not, I'll see about asking a neighbor or somebody about a spare key." If the building had been in a better neighborhood I'd have done the asking first and the b and e second, but places like this, I figured the cops were probably going to be friendlier than the natives.

Outside we found ourselves staring up at what had to be the world's cheapest fire escape, or at least the most dangerous. There were Guatemalan jungles less hazardous than this thing.

At least the ladder was dropped. I could climb up it. I wondered if I had had a tetanus shot recently. Tentatively I grabbed one of the rungs and pulled. It held. "Okay, I'll just climb up and—"

"You're nuts. You can't climb that rusted out p.o.s!" Lula protested.

I agreed, but I needed that computer. "I'll be fine. You stay down here and do the lookout thing, okay? I'll be down in like five minutes flat." Or I'd just fall and be flat period. Either way.

Lula shook her head. "Crazy ass white girl."

I gritted my teeth and started the climb, pretending I was climbing to the barn loft at Grandmary's. Maybe I was climbing a tree. A really rusty tree. I made it to the first platform, and winced at the sound of groaning metal. Maybe that wasn't a good sign. Maybe I should climb back down now, while I still could.

But I needed Howie's hard drive. I needed to prove what was going on, or no one was going to believe me. Whispering a litany of curses at Janet, I started hauling myself up the second ladder.

Howie lived in the attic, I realized as I peered through the third floor window. It hadn't looked so much like an attic in the hallway, but sure enough in Howie's rooms there were bare rafters. Chipped linoleum on the floor, and a sofa what was overdue for an appointment with the dumpster, plus a couple metal folding chairs and a bare sink hanging on one wall completed the late ghetto décor.

I scrambled up on the platform and tugged at the window. I felt a sliver of wood slide into my skin and let go of the stupid thing with a yelp of pain, falling flat onto my butt, dangerously close to the edge of the escape.

My impact raised a teeth-grinding metallic shriek. I felt a jolt of fear and I scuttled toward the ladder. I got one foot on it and the whole thing disintegrated out from under me. I barely managed to catch hold of the handrail and pull myself back up. I laid flat on the metal grating, watching the rest of the fire escape fall to the ground. It didn't even make that much noise.

I closed my eyes and counted to ten, swearing that if I ever got through time and space and found Janet I was going to… to… ship her to a desert island without any pens or papers or computers.

"You okay?" Lula yelled up.

"Peachy keen," I called.

"You coming down soon?"

I sighed. Break Howie's window or call in the reinforcements? Maybe I should just lay here in the sun and die of exposure. I rolled over and looked up at the depressing gray-tinged blue of the New Jersey sky. Maybe I'd catch cancer from breathing in smog.

Was it worth the effort? I could just stay right here and sun myself and wait for a… hey, I could just jump off the fire escape. Maybe it would be the same as falling down a set of stairs. Maybe I'd wake up and this would all be a dream.

I frowned as that thought didn't sound as appealing as it should have, and pulled out my cell phone. I scrolled through the phone book, and dialed Ranger. "I'm stuck on an impromptu balcony and I'm going to die of exposure," I said when I heard him pick up. My announcement was greeted with several beats of silence.

"Do I want to know?"

"Probably not, but in case you're interested in rescuing a damsel in distress, I have just the thing…"


	12. Chapter 12

Navigating Nine Chapter 12

_Disclaimer:_The plot of To The Nines, and the entire Plum universe is the creation and property of Janet Evanovich. I am toying with it and making no money from it and will put it all back where it belongs when I am through.

_Note:_ Thank you to everyone for being patient with me while I laze about and procrastinate and a special thank you to Fina for poking and prodding me to stop procrastinating and write. Unfortunately for the story this will probably be all I will write for a while fan fiction-wise. I'll try to update it, but I figured I would give fair warning.

CSIQueen: I am glad you're enjoying this! And if I have time, I might to some more books in this universe... I do have an outline of what Steph is going through in Alyssa's old life, but I can't write it until this one's done with or it might spoil the fun.

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I watched through the window as Ranger opened the apartment door and walked across the room. He slid the window up and I swallowed hard at his unreadable expression. "It wasn't my fault!"

He shook his head. "Is it ever?" And he dragged me through the window into the apartment. I ignored the question and the rough handling and looked around. If possible it looked even more bleak in person than it did from outside.

"Where's the computer?" I asked. I didn't see anything technology wise beyond the ancient tv set, so I headed toward the bedroom.

"Computer?"

"Singh is a computer geek. Howie probably is too. I don't think he's sharing this place, so if they're keeping touch it's probably e-mail or something." I stopped in my tracks as I entered the bedroom. There, on the floor, plugged into an outlet, sat a laptop with a cracked screen. But I didn't have enough computer hacking knowledge to deal with it, I was betting. I also didn't have a spare CD on me to save any files…

"Can we take the hard drive and copy it and get it back before Howie gets back from McDonald's?" I asked Ranger.

He raised an eyebrow. "Babe?"

"Well, can we? Or should we do a fake robbery?"

"You've been watching too much television."

I narrowed my eyes. "We need that hard drive. He's a computers person, he probably has all those stupid fire wall password thingies on there. I do not hack. So unless you do, we need to take it to someplace it can get copied and or hacked and…" I stopped as another option hit me, a little belatedly. "Hey, it's connected to the internet! Do you have any hackers at RangeMan?"

Ranger's head moved a fraction of an inch to the side, in a gesture I wasn't sure how to interpret. I guessed it to mean a combination of 'yes' and 'remind me why I don't ship you to Zimbabwe.' But he didn't say that and when he flipped open his phone his first words did not sound like a request for a box of car parts or large shipping crates. The conversation was short and if not sweet, at least to the point.

"It's taken care of," he said as we headed out of Howie's space.

I nodded and flashed him my biggest teen-crush grin. "Thanks for saving me, hero."

"Welcome." And he did his almost-smile.

"Too bad I'm still pissed at you," I added.

Ranger's eyebrow went up. I tossed my hair, feeling much more in the mood to tease him than to actually rake up the coals after the TriBro incident. After all, with the evidence from the computer, I could relax. The hacker people would discover some sort of info on the game, nab Clyde, all while I would be free to hop off to Vegas for a celebratory take-down and after party. Stress on the after party.

Oh, wow, I'd need something to wear… I could shop in Vegas though…

"Earth to Babe," Ranger's voice was quiet and I was electrically aware that he was a bit to close for political correctness as his breath slid along the skin of my throat.

"W-what?" I stuttered as I simultaneously attempted to slip back to reality and into a highly erotic fantasy. "Sorry, I was thinking about the case." Sort of. "I think Singh's somewhere else. At Rose-erm, BriTro—I mean, TriBro—" Ranger was smirking and his hand on the nape of my neck was short circuiting my brain.

I batted the hand away. "Stop that."

The smirk turned into a real smile. The one that made people walk into large immoveable objects occasionally called walls.

"You're doing it on purpose and you know it," I said, attempting to be pissy and pretty much failing.

"Doing what?"

"Making it hard for me to think."

His grin got very predatory. "I am?"

Shit. Never match wits with a mercenary. "Yes, and you know it. Now turn off the sexy and get with the scary. I'm going to Vegas." And if you're all scary while I'm gone, I know no sane chick is going to try to sleep with you.

"Vegas?" he asked, leaning back slightly. I guessed it was a tactical retreat to assess the situation.

"At TriBro they mentioned something about Singh going to Vegas. Have we checked with the airlines- and by we I mean you and the Justice League?"

Ranger looked like he had a slight migraine, or maybe a small gunshot wound. "RangeMan, I assume?"

"Sure, if you want to be all mundane."

We had reached the foyer and Lula clomped toward us on her big platforms as we walked out into the less-than-dazzling Jersey June sun. "You find anything?" she asked.

"Just a computer. But we should go check with Howie anyway. You coming with?" I turned to Ranger. His head moved slightly to the right.

"Business meeting."

"Bummer. Try not to get shot." I leaned in and what was meant to be a kiss on the cheek mysteriously turned into a bone-melting—okay, 'kiss' didn't cover it—experience. Yeah, experience. That was a good word.

Then Ranger got into the truck and drove off. I was still trying to recover my brain when Lula let out a long whistle. "Damn, I'm getting a hot flash."

"You aren't," I rolled my eyes. "It's June. Summer. It's hot outside."

"It's 70."

"Oh."

We were reverently silent.

"Ready for a McDonald's-based interrogation?" I asked. When I had all my neurons functioning again I was going to kick Ranger's ass for that parting… territory-staking… whatever it had been.

"You bet your ass."

0000000000000000000000000000000000000

We pulled into Mickey D's a little while later, and I followed Lula in. I figured it was best not to get between her and her McNugget fix. The manager, a girl who looked like she needed a dip in grease-remover but who was probably pretty underneath the shiny coating, told me Howie was outside on his lunch break. Sure enough, I found him at one of the concrete McTables out front.

I took a deep breath and dusted off my disarming Midwestern Girl Charm.

"Excuse me sir, could I ask you—"

"Go away," Howie said quickly, with a horrid scowl. "I am on lunchbreak. I am eating. I am not serving."

"I'm not asking about McDonalds," I said, my friendly smile and non-threatening posture dropping away like last year's earrings. "I want to talk to you about Samuel Singh," I explained, shifting my weight forward and moving my hands so I could more easily get at my stun gun. Hey, one more book and I'd be in danger of having to tangle with Anton Ward. I needed to get some kidnapping practice in early.

"So sorry," Howie shrugged. "I do not know anything. Crazy Americans. Always asking questions… In my country—"

I gritted my teeth, and thought about how small a box of car parts Howie might fit into. He was small and scrawny- total computer geek look. Bet he wouldn't cost much for shipping…

"But the games are good," he added with an odd look of satisfaction. My hand was on my stun gun. I wondered how it got there. It was a squicky feeling to recognize that if Clyde Cone hadn't gotten to him, this was probably the type of kid who joined Al-Quaeda.

"Look," I said through gritted teeth, "about the games—" but that was as far as I got, because Janet took over.

The shots were loud, deafening me, and Howie's head seemed to explode. I shut my eyes and shied away on reflex, but I wasn't Super Girl. My face and arms were splattered with something warm and damp as I dropped to the floor. Ketchup, it felt like.

I lay on the concrete, among the scattered fries, paralyzed with fear. Gun. Oh my god, where was my--- my hand. My gun was in my hand. When did that happen?

No more shots were being fired, I realized.

"Jesus, white girl!" Lula dropped down beside me, and I blinked at her yellow sweater. That spandex had to be cutting off her circulation. I levered myself into a sitting position. "I thought you was dead too," she said looking at me with an odd expression.

"Howie—"

"Howie's dead. I think you got half his—"

"Ketchup on me, I know."

"That don't look like no…" I gave her a Look that must have been scary, "normal ketchup. Must be that McDonald's ketchup or barbecue sauce…"

I nodded, stood up, walked a few feet away, and threw up.

Lula handed me a Coke. "You gonna be okay?"

"Sure," I said, trying to get back into character. This wasn't a big deal, being around when some guy got his head blown off. Normal. Everyday thing. No big. "Sure, I'm fine. I just need a shower." And to get out of this life.

A couple police cruisers were turning into the lot, and by the look of the beat up 'inconspicuous' cop car a block away, Morelli wasn't too far behind. Neither was the black SUV which had materialized from somewhere even before the cops had put their cars in park. The cavalry had officially arrived in official Cavalry timing.


End file.
